


Piece by Piece

by Xyalin



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Amnesia fic, Does this count as AU?, M/M, Phantom Thieves friendship!, Slow Burn, yet another fix-it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyalin/pseuds/Xyalin
Summary: Goro Akechi wakes up in a dusty attic feeling like he'd just been run over by a train. Another slight problem: he has no idea who he is, not even his name. All he knows is that he wants answers and, for whatever reason, this Akira Kurusu is reluctant to give them to him...





	1. A Rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, thanks for stopping by!  
> I know this concept is not exactly unique (actually I stumbled upon another amnesia fic yesterday though at least it was rather different from mine in every other way). Still, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! If you're like me, you won't care how unique it is as long as it's a good character study, Akechi finds happiness, and the writer gets the characters down pat. I will try my best to do just that!
> 
> Quick note! Instead of the stiff, overly formal way that Akechi talks in the English version, I'm writing his dialogue closer to the Japanese version where he talks more like, well, a normal person. I aim to keep his eloquence in typical conversation and formality when needed, however.
> 
> This has been a Xyalin PSA.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How late was stupidly late to realize you didn't remember your own name?"

***

            Why was it so hard to open his eyes? He had the vague notion that sleep was supposed to be refreshing, yet here he was feeling like he'd just gotten run over by a train.

            "I think he's waking up," a voice said, a masculine one that was _extremely_ familiar.

            "I don't buy it." A girl's voice...one a bit younger? "I bet he's been awake this whole time trying to spy on us or something."

            He didn't really process the words as he attempted to gather himself. His brain was a foggy mess and all he could do for a moment was absorb the sounds they made, eventually coalescing into comprehensible syllables.

            "Futaba, why are you wearing that?"

            _What a beautiful voice,_ his mind thought in its addled state.

            "I wanna give him a good scare when he wakes up!" The girl's voice was muffled now.

            He let out a weak groan, wincing in pain as he rolled toward the voices and sat up. Belatedly, he felt the bandages at various places on his body. Noting to ask about it later, he made the effort to open his eyes.

            The first sight to greet him was a giant head. Crescent eyes gleamed maniacally above cheeks as round and puffy as the red accessories it wore in its black hair.

            Yep, he was definitely awake now.

            He leaned back in surprise, eyes wide, while registering that it was just a mask. The body it belonged to was much thinner—stringy, in fact. This must have been the girl he'd heard.

            "Aw, I kinda wanted him to freak out," her muffled voice pouted, the words a little creepier coming from that face.

            "Didn't we hear enough of that already?" the other teenager mumbled.

            He wasn't sure what that meant, so he filed the words away for later. For now, he flicked his gaze over to the boy with the familiar voice to respond to him properly...

            And froze.

            He didn't recognize this guy with his curly black hair and glasses, and yet he found his heart practically beating through his chest as soon as they met eyes.

            Another thing he filed away for later.

            "W-who—?"

            He coughed, wondering why his voice came out as a rasp at normal volume, wondering why his throat felt sandpaper-esque.

            After a quick clearing of it, he felt like his words would come through more clearly—as long as he kept his voice soft.

            "Sorry to be blunt, but where are we?"

            It was probably more polite to start with where rather than who. Besides, this _was_ a curious place. He took in the small, sort of dusty place. His eyes roved over it in a quick sweep, taking in the stairs, tiny television, and elaborate work desk from his place on the bed. Out of his periphery, he caught the two teenagers exchanging glances. It was almost comical with the girl's mask involved.

            The curly-haired boy spoke slowly, as if to a frightened child. "We're at Leblanc...Does it look different somehow?"

            He shrugged. Apparently he was supposed to know this place? Is that what these two were told?

            He managed a smile. "I think there might have been a misunderstanding. This is my first time here, so I may have a few questions."

            He was pleased that words and thoughts came smoothly to him now. Although he wished they would finally tell him their names so he could refer to them as something other than the boy and the girl. He supposed it was up to him to initiate basic manners and introduce himself—

            How late was stupidly late to realize you didn't remember your own name?

            Suddenly frantic, he attempted to remember the last thing that happened to him before he presumably lost consciousness.

            Nothing.

            "Um, Akira? He's looking a little glitchy," said the girl. She took off her mask-head thing at last and held it under her arm like a stack of books.

            She had a funny way of putting things, but indeed; he probably looked just as strange as he'd sounded, polite smile still pasted on his face with eyes widened at his recent realization that he had no idea who he was.

            But now he had a name for this boy in front of him. Akira.

            With one last desperate attempt, he took in the face of the orange-haired girl, taking in her green jacket and giant headphones, searching for _anything_ familiar. But no. All he had to go on was that a single glimpse of Akira had made his heart race for whatever reason. Judging from the surge of positive and negative emotions he had felt, things were probably complicated.

            Unless, of course, these feelings were just his imagination. If he didn't have this strange overriding instinct to smother and mask himself, he would have yelled in frustration.

            Instead, he chuckled weakly. It hurt his throat. "To be honest with you," he began lightly, though his voice began to tremble, "I can't seem to remember anything."

            He _sensed_ these two were—how to put it—good kids? But what if that weren't the case? Were they the reason he hurt all over? Did his throat hurt because he screamed while they tortured him? The possibilities rushed through his mind, each one more horrible than the next.

            "Maybe a little glitchy," Akira agreed to the girl in a murmur.

            The girl squinted suspiciously at him and he felt a flash of irritation from that coupled with being ignored.

            "Futaba," Akira said, "Maybe I should talk to him alone."

            He forced himself to remain patient and stayed quiet like a good little invalid. Meanwhile, the girl's—Futaba's—gaze darted between the two of them.

            "Are you sure...?" She seemed truly reluctant to go. Almost...fearful?

            He burned with curiosity. What in the world could cause such a reaction? It was almost as if she were scared to leave her friend alone with him. Shouldn't it have been the other way around?

            _After all, look which one of us can barely move._ He absently ran a hand over a bandage across his shoulder.

            When she met Akira's eyes, Futaba sighed and closed her eyes in resignation. "I'll go see what Mona and Sojiro are up to." And down she went.

            Once she was out of earshot, he said, "Futaba doesn't seem to like me very much." He kept his tone mild. Pleasant, even.

            Akira scrutinized him, peering deep into his eyes with his own black, unreadable pair. He forced himself not to look away.

            "You really can't remember? But how...?" Akira seemed to be talking more to himself. "You know, whether you remember something or not doesn't change that it happened."

            He knit his brow in confusion, trying to follow what Akira was implying.

            "What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that you don't need to hide. Have you really lost all your memories?"

            "I'm afraid I don't understand." He truly didn't. Hide from what, exactly? For what purpose? "Is there a reason you don't believe me?"

            Akira studied him again with those black pool eyes. It was starting to unnerve him, and...something else, too. Well, he'd think about it later.

            But this time, Akira seemed to find what he was looking for and gave a small, perhaps kind, smile. Instead of answering his question, he said, "You wanna know something about yourself, Akechi? You're a pretty bad actor."

            Akechi? Was that his name? It didn't feel unfitting, at least. To Akira, he replied, "You truly think this is an act?"

            He grinned. "Nope. Which is why it's a good thing I already know you're a bad actor. Otherwise I might not believe you so quickly."

            "I...see." Yet another thing he filed away, even if it wasn't exactly the information he needed.

            _If the information you need is unavailable, you must learn to make do with any and all information you receive regardless._ This rule of thumb came to him like a distant echo.

            Moreover, he was simply hungry to learn anything he could about himself. Speaking of which...

            "Akechi sounds like a last name. I _do_ have a first name, don't I?" He hid this hunger behind a flippant lilt.

            Akira smirked. "I guess you do, _Goro_."

            Yes, yes, that was definitely his name. His heart hammered all over again and heat rose to his cheeks simply after hearing his first name alone fall from the other boy's lips.

            Akira was still smirking. There was something infuriating about this guy.

            "That sounds right," Goro replied nonchalantly. He prayed it gave away nothing of the chaos he felt inside. Either way, he took his revenge quickly: "Anything I can call you besides... _Akira_?"

            All Akira did was shrug, not phased in the slightest. "Would you be more comfortable with Kurusu?"

            Kurusu...san? Kurusu-kun? That didn't seem right either. He compromised by dropping the honorifics. Somehow just Kurusu felt more fitting than the other two in spite of his need to maintain a polite façade.

            "Kurusu, then," Goro said.

            Akira—no, _Kurusu_ — merely nodded and took out his phone to make a call.

            Was it Goro's imagination, then, that the name Akira felt so familiar on his tongue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If fellow Persona fans want to find me on my trash Twitter: https://twitter.com/Xyalin26  
> Feel free to drop by with a message—I'm friendly! I like friends!
> 
> These chapters are shorter than I tend to see on here, but I'll try to update more often to make up for it (even if no one is actually reading my fic loll...this fic is truly powered by intrinsic motivation)


	2. The Doctor and the Wardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have a deal for you, Goro Akechi. I will give you back all your lost memories. In exchange...kill Akira Kurusu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a couple days, but here's chapter two, I guess! I don't think all my updates will be nearly this quick, but I was under the impression I could schedule them...oops ^^; Anyway, thank you for the kudos and kind comments so far!

***

            "Takemi-san? Could you come by again soon?...Yeah, he just woke up, but all his memories are gone...Yeah, I'll let Sojiro know."

            Kurusu hung up after a short while. He and this Takemi appeared to be somewhat close, judging by his tone.

            "She'll be here in a few minutes since she's in the neighborhood," he said to Goro. "I don't think you've ever met her, but she's the one who treated your wounds."

            Which reminded him... "Kurusu, how did I get like this in the first place?"

            Kurusu angled away, scratching the back of his head. "For that, I think I'd need to start at the beginning."

            Goro managed another pleasant smile. "I seem to have all the time in the world."

            The other boy bit his lip, quiet for a moment. Goro could see the gears turning behind his eyes, expression readable for once.

            "Not yet," Kurusu finally said.

            Goro blinked, smothering the urge to strangle him for dangling the baited hook only to snatch it away. "I'm sorry?"

            Still avoiding his gaze, Kurusu continued, "There's some more people involved and I don't want to do anything without them."

            "I see." Tone neutral, Goro vented his impatience by tapping his finger on the bed, rapid as a woodpecker.

            A bell chimed from downstairs.         

            "That'll probably be Takemi." Kurusu inclined his head toward the stairs. "I'll be right back."

            And so Goro was left to his thoughts, analyzing every painstaking detail about his situation, analyzing the obsessive way he analyzed. Some distant inner voice told him that knowing oneself was just as vital as knowing others.

            He assessed his physical damage, hating how the aching and occasional jolts of pain drained his mental resources. It didn't help that he was going around and around in circles trying to figure out how he'd gotten there in the first place!

            Again, he considered the possibility that Kurusu could have done it—but he was so docile and Goro _knew_ he could get a read on people like it was second nature—so why wouldn't he tell him?

            Goro collapsed backward onto the sheets. _I give up._ For now, of course.

Mercifully, Takemi showed up a few seconds later, neat footsteps up the stairs contrasting with Kurusu's shuffling ones. Her eyes were sharp, complemented by her sleek black bob. She exuded an intensity that almost intimidated him.

            When Goro attempted to sit back up, partially to greet her, but mostly because it felt less vulnerable, Takemi put a hand up to stop him.

            "Lie still and I'll take a quick look at you."

            In hindsight, it was anything but quick.

            She checked his pupils and asked him about five hundred different questions. Then, she had him move whatever muscles weren't injured. Everything seemed to check out (while Takemi wasn't particularly vocal, Goro could see the satisfaction in her eyes and small nods).

            "I watched him the whole time I was helping him back and he never hit his head as far as I can remember," Kurusu supplied, then put a knuckle to his lips in thought. "Could've happened before that with everything going on though..."

            There he was again, dangling the carrot. Probably innocently. That made him even more infuriating.

            _I'm...a rather angry person, aren't I?_ he thought with some detached part of his mind. The tiniest things seemed to wind him up, after all. Then again, the circumstances weren't exactly in his favor, so who could blame him for feeling a bit...on edge?

            Takemi spoke up again, interrupting his thoughts. "On the outside, everything seems fine, at least. It's been what, an hour or so since he's woken up? Keep track of him for now and keep me updated on his status. If this lasts for..." She studied him with those piercing eyes again, "another week, then we'll have to run some imaging tests. Sooner if anything alarming pops up—breathing problems, chest pain, dizziness, you name it. I'd like to get a copy of his medical files, as well."

            "That might be hard...." Kurusu said. "It's not like we know what hospital he went to whenever he was sick."

            "Doesn't he have any family we could talk to? Haven't you notified them?"

            With an almost pitying look at Goro, Kurusu swallowed. "Not that I know of. He, uh, told me he's an orphan."

            _Stop talking about me like I'm not even in the room._

And then it hit him. An orphan, Kurusu said?

            _So then...I'm all alone?_

Thankfully, neither of them seemed to notice his tightening throat or the way he blinked away fresh tears as they discussed their options without him. Somewhere deep inside, Goro knew this was an old pain festering inside of him.

            Well, why wouldn't it be?

            When it was time for Takemi to go, she was still all business, but now there was an unmistakable softness to her expression as she put a hand on his shoulder and told him to stop by for whatever he needed.

            Painkillers and throat medicine left behind, Takemi went on her way. Part of him wished Kurusu would follow her.

            No, instead he lingered awkwardly. "I didn't mean for you to find out that way," he said a moment later.

            "Any information is better than no information," Goro replied pointedly.

            Kurusu only nodded, and Goro wanted to throttle him again.

            And then...it faded away. He realized his adrenaline had dissipated and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Even his eyelids began to droop.

            "I'll let you get some rest," Kurusu said.

            Goro lay back as the other boy went downstairs. He was asleep before Kurusu even exited the café to go who-knew-where.

 

***

 

He opened his eyes to the walls of a prison cell. Here his body felt light, uninjured and unburdened. Still no memories, however...

            This had to have been some kind of ultrarealistic lucid dream if his body was magically healed like this. And last time he checked, he couldn't teleport.

            Sitting up, he examined his squalid little cell and wondered what it said about his psyche. Would he be able to conjure up a dream version of Sigmund Freud to consult?

            Beyond the bars, two young girls in blue uniform stood guarding his cell, their backs to him. Their build and unique hair color was the exact same, so he guessed them to be sisters. That was all he could see as far as the rim of the circular place went; all else was cast in shadow. The room was lit by an eerie blue light that matched the rug in the middle and highlighted the desk in the very center. The wood was polished and elegant, its beauty contrasting with the harsh ugliness of the rest of the chamber.

            Goro went up close to the bars, grasping them as he scanned his surroundings.

            "Welcome back, inmate!" One of the girls turned and whacked her metal rod across the bars, just barely missing his fingers.

            He let out a choked yelp and stumbled back. When he looked up again to the center of the room, an old man sat on the plush purple chair at the desk. His face was like something out of a nightmare: a carrot-long nose set below bulging eyes and black eyebrows like branches.

            Somehow, Goro held the knowledge that you could change a lucid dream if you so wished (had he gone through an occult phase?), so he closed his eyes and focused on some more pleasant location. A meadow, perhaps?

            He opened his eyes to the same room. So much for that...

            "I suppose I have to talk to you to get through this dream," Goro addressed the old man.

            Another earsplitting clang of metal on metal as the girl hit her baton against the bars again. Goro only winced this time. He adapted quickly to compulsive and violent behavior.

            "Show more respect, inmate!"

            Jeez. His mind could really conjure some scary little girls...

            The old man gave a low, gravely laugh. From that alone, Goro could tell he wasn't a friend.

            "Goro Akechi, we meet here again. Oh, but you do not remember all those times before, now do you?"

            Goro narrowed his eyes. "A consequence of complete memory loss, I'm afraid," he replied warily.

            "You stand now in my Velvet Room. I am Igor and this is no dream. Still, our discussion _is_ taking place inside your mind, in a sense."

            Based on how vivid it all was, how strongly everything came through his five senses, it wasn't hard to believe. Still...it was just too far-fetched.

            "What is the purpose of my being here?" he asked. A thought occurred to him that his dreams could link him to missing memories. After all, it wasn't the memories themselves that were lost, rather his ability to retrieve them.

            "You and my other chosen one are breaking the rules of my game," Igor replied with an amused chuckle. It sounded as sinister as the rest of him looked.

            "And what would this game be? If I can't even remember my own name, I'll need more than cryptic statements."

            There was something about this place that emboldened him, regardless of the wardens, the unsettling decorum, and his position as prisoner. It was _his_ dream world, and he could do and say whatever he pleased.

            "Such insolence," the girl muttered. So far, her twin had remained silent, bright yellow eyes watching him.

            "Yes, and I am curious how that, too, will impact the game that shall decide humanity's fate," said Igor.

            "I need to know more about myself," Goro demanded of his own subconscious creation.

            Igor regarded him for a moment with those freakish eyes of his. "Do you? Ignorance is bliss, is it not?"

            Goro ignored the contrariness and dove right in: "How did I become injured? What happened to my family? How do I know Akira Kurusu?"

            The aggressive girl made an exasperated noise while curiosity prompted the other girl to tilt her head as she stared.

            Igor responded with no more than a throaty laugh.

            "Answer me!" Rage churned within him, a roaring monster that seemed to awaken suddenly, yet powerfully in Goro. His own lack of stability in this way unnerved him, yet lent him a surge of strength that was irresistible in such powerless moments.

            "It seems your mother was not around nearly long enough to teach you manners."

            Unbelievable. "Don't taunt me, you sadistic piece of—"

            "There are more pressing matters to discuss."

            Goro heard himself growl in irritation, as unexpected as those last words that had come out of his mouth.

            "I'm listening," he said through gritted teeth.

            "You retrained him quickly, Master," the other girl finally spoke up. Her voice was soft and floating, a contrast to the other girl's.

            Another flash of anger at the word "retrained" more than anything else said to him.

            "I have a deal for you, Goro Akechi. I will give you back all your lost memories. In exchange...kill Akira Kurusu."

            Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the twins attempting to mask quick, unsettled glances.

            "Kill Kurusu because a voice inside my head told me to?" Goro let out a harsh laugh. "I'll let you know how the asylum is."

            Igor hmmm-ed raspily, steepling his fingers. "For proof that this is no dream, I will restore one day of memories to you upon waking."

            With a half-smile, Goro responded, "I look forward to it."

            Before he was even aware of it, he sat back down on his cot, exhaustion overtaking him.

            "Sweet dreams, inmate," said the whispery girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese culture note:  
> When people are sick, sometimes they go to the clinic, but a lot of people just go to the hospital. At least, that was my experience living in Tokyo. Pro tip: if they ask you if you want to do a flu test, DO NOT DO IT! not if you don't want your nose violated because they stick something practically up to your brain TWICE (once per nostril).
> 
> While we're on it, another thing I see in fics is cereal normalized as a breakfast food. In Japan, it's actually very hard to find cereal!
> 
> My trash Twitter: https://twitter.com/Xyalin26


	3. A Day of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You didn't tell me I was some sort of prodigy detective," he said lightly to Kurusu. "The Detective Prince, in fact."

***

            As promised, the moment he awoke, a day's worth of highlight memories came to mind. Of course it wouldn't be every single detail, as it would be unnatural to remember that much from a single day. Recalling them was so easy, it was hard to imagine he had ever lost them in the first place!

            He had indeed met Kurusu before in this very café. Like something out of the Meiji era, the small place was hushed with dark decorum, frequented by the older locals. It was what these types of café owners called "pure" coffee shops, serving no drinks but the bean from open to close.

            Goro usually didn't care about the taste of food or drink, but when it came to coffee, he turned into an instant connoisseur and sampled all the different house blends he could around Tokyo. Once he'd found Leblanc, however, there was no going back to his coffee nomad lifestyle. For some inexplicable reason, this place felt like home.

            Rummaging deeper through the memories, a stack of papers came to mind—case files. They expanded upon the news currently playing on the old television by the end of the counter.

            "Back for the usual, Akechi-kun?"

            That would be Sakura-san. Before he could even reply, the stern old café owner began preparing the blend for him, even down to the milk and two teaspoons of sugar. Hm...perhaps if Goro had been a true connoisseur, he would have taken it black?

            "Thank you very much, Sakura-san." Apparently, Goro was the only one who didn't call him "Boss."

            Putting that aside, he attempted to recall more of the case files, but they were hazy. The next memory was more important, anyway.

            A familiar voice on TV had wrenched his attention away. Was that...him? Yes, unmistakably...but why?

            In his memories, he had looked up partially in curiosity, embarrassment preventing him from taking more than a couple peeks, especially with Sakura-san smirking like that at his reaction.

            The talk show hosts referred to him as the new Detective Prince investigating what was called the "mental shutdowns." The audience adored him, the hosts adored him...his past self was living the life.

            _A detective in high school? I'll take that to mean I'm brilliant,_ he reflected with a self-indulgent smile.

            But detectives could land themselves in hot water, too. Hence the injuries. Perhaps not so brilliant in the ways that counted.

            In the present day, the sunlight streaming through the attic window told Goro it was morning. With somewhat less effort than yesterday, he sat up, determined to make _some_ sort of headway on his situation. Detective Prince, indeed. He downed the painkillers, ready to face the day.

            Kurusu was still asleep on the couch (Goro felt a bit guilty taking his bed), but now there was a sleeping black form curled up on his chest. Was...was that a cat? As if sensing the strange new human staring at it, the cat blinked and lifted its head to look at him with its bright blue eyes.

            It stared so intently that Goro gave it a little wave. "Hello, cat."

            "Not a cat," came a defiant mutter that definitely didn't sound like Kurusu. And it certainly wasn't soft enough to be mistaken for an odd meow.

            "K-Kurusu, did you say something?" Because he had to rule out the possibility.

            To answer that, Kurusu exhaled a deep snore. Well, then.

            The cat leapt gracefully off Kurusu's chest and onto the unoccupied side of the bed.

            "Can you still hear me?"

            The source of sound came directly from the cat and even its cute little mouth was moving.

            Another dream?

            "Yes or no, Akechi?"

            Goro gulped and gave a jerky nod, mute in disbelief.

            "Well, you're definitely more convincing this time around," the cat replied.

            "S-sorry?" He found his voice, at last.

            "Never mind. But if you really _have_ lost your memories and can still hear me, then everything you know about cognitive psience and the Metaverse must still be in there somewhere."

            It had a boyish voice, so maybe Goro would refer to it as a "he" from now on; it was only polite.

            _I've really lost it, haven't I?_

Goro slapped his cheeks to wake himself up from this dream. Nope, still there. "Cat, can you tell me if I'm dreaming again?"

            With an exasperated groan, he said, "My _name_ is Morgana! And no, not unless I'm the one dreaming this right now instead."

            The Velvet Room, talking cats, what was next?

            Kurusu stirred. Evidently, their conversation had broken through even the most determined high-schooler's power to sleep in. Then again, Goro wasn't sure if it was earlier in the morning than it felt.

            Did that mean Kurusu could hear Morgana, as well?

            "Mona...?"

            Goro found himself thinking that Kurusu's voice was still nice even when it sounded drowsy and confused.

            "Sorry," said Morgana, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

            Kurusu yawned and stretched. "Morning, Akechi. Did I toss you off again in my sleep, Morgana?"

            "No. I felt this guy over here staring at me." Blue eyes narrowed over to Goro.

            First, Futaba, and now Morgana. Would any of Kurusu's friends ever like him? He comforted himself with the fact that cats always played hard-to-get as a feline axiom.

            "He was only staring because you're so cute," Kurusu explained to the cat.

            _He was cuter before he opened his mouth_ , Goro thought a little viciously.

            "Don't mind me; I was simply surprised," is what he said aloud.

            Actually, he wanted the quiet back so he could focus on the flood of memories pouring in. Goro had the irrational fear that they would disappear if he didn't grasp them that moment. Lying back down, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

            In his memories of that day at Leblanc this time, Kurusu was there. He'd come through the entrance with a chime of the bell and they made polite chit-chat. Though Goro couldn't recall the topic, he remembered replying with a genuine, "I'm glad I could catch up with you before I had to leave. It's always refreshing to have a conversation with you."

            For no reason whatsoever, Goro was so _fond_ of him.

            _Yet I intended to leave early only if Kurusu came around. Why did he make me want to leave when..._ he distinctly remembered the thrilling tingle that had shot up from his stomach through his chest at the unexpected run-in.

            With each answer he received, Goro only had more questions.

            Unfortunately, the rest of his night had been uneventful. He confirmed, however, that he truly did live alone—and he had been used to it.

            Still gazing up at the plastic stars stuck to the ceiling, he mused to Kurusu, "You know, I had the strangest dream. In it, an old man promised he would give me a day's worth of memories. When I woke up, there they were." He noticed the other boy sit up at attention. "The human mind really is a miracle sometimes."

            "Tell me more about this dream. Where were you?" Kurusu asked. Something about his demeanor had changed; it was charged with a focus that didn't match his pajamas and bed-head.

            _Oh? Why the sudden interest?_

"Dreams are funny," Goro said half to Kurusu and half to himself. "The old man called that place the Velvet Room even though there wasn't a hint of velvet in sight. So what does velvet indicate about my psyche?"

            Kurusu looked away, as if contemplating. Far too deep in thought over a silly dream, Goro thought.

            "I guess it makes sense _you'd_ have weird dreams," said Morgana.

            He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it sounded like an insult. Taking it in stride, he smiled and asked, "What about you, Mona? Any interesting dreams?"

            Morgana paused. "Don't call me that. It sounds weird coming from you."

            "Kurusu, why does your cat hate me?"

            "I told you, I am _not_ a cat!"

            Kurusu sighed and buried his face in his pillow, sleepy teenager once again.

            Igor's chilling words came back to Goro. Kill Kurusu for the rest of his memories, huh? What kind of sick joke was that? Not for the first time, Goro was concerned about the type of person he had been. The type of person he still was. Although, he did have one answer:

            "You didn't tell me I was some sort of prodigy detective," he said lightly to Kurusu. "The Detective Prince, in fact."

            If those memories were somehow false, saying something like that aloud would have been exceedingly embarrassing.

            Morgana, however, regarded him warily while Kurusu sat up and scratched the back of his head, probably conflicted again.

            "So you see," Goro continued, "I'll eventually learn everything about myself with or without your help."

            This time, the other boy answered without hesitation. "I want to help you, Akechi. I just...I don't know where to start." And then, in a quieter voice unused to admitting such things, "I don't know what the right thing is to do."

            "You're making this sound so complicated." Goro masked his frustration with a playful lilt in his voice.

            "It kinda is. I'm sorry."

            Goro sighed. Nothing to be done about that, then.

            Conversation over, Kurusu ambled over to his dresser and threw Goro a pair of black pants and a long-sleeved tee-shirt. Not exactly his style, but it would do.

            Once Goro dressed, Kurusu appraised him, head tilted in curiosity. Before Goro could give him a questioning look, the other remarked, "You always dress so formal, it's funny to see you in a tee-shirt."

            Goro framed his chin with a thumb and forefinger, grinning. "Formal, eh? Well, the Detective Prince has to keep up appearances, after all."

            Kurusu and Morgana groaned at the same time.

            "Do we have to keep him?" asked the cat.

            Kurusu only snickered and motioned them downstairs.

            It was just like the Leblanc of his memories. There were no customers; it was probably too early. Indeed, the sign on the door was still flipped to closed. Someone was washing dishes in the back—that had to be Sakura-san!

            Even though he was stern, Sakura-san had nodded and flashed a small smile in welcome at him that day. He had known Goro's usual and made occasional conversation. Conversation that _wasn't_ about school or detective work because this café was his escape, his small island in the hell that was Tokyo, the only place that felt like home—

            His eyes stung and he quickly wiped at them. _Where are these thoughts coming from?_

Luckily, neither Kurusu nor Morgana had seen, each at his own stool by the counter. Goro stopped standing around and joined them.

            Sakura-san had emerged with a delectable bowl of his famous curry rice and set it in front of Kurusu, spoon flipped down at the edge of the bowl as if he were a customer.

            "Good morning, Sakura-san," Goro greeted with a polite smile.

            Contrary to last time, Sakura-san halted, eyeing him with...was it caution? "Already up and about, huh?" was Sakura-san's response. Stiff, as if someone had pulled the words out of him.

            "Ah, yes..." Another hostile presence? On his island? Goro swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.

            "You remember Sojiro?" asked Kurusu with an open look of trust in his eyes. His only salvation in this insane situation.

            "I told you I recovered a day of memories. That day, I came here, even met you for a moment before I had to leave."

            _Although, "before I had to escape" seemed more like it._

Sakura-san placed a bowl of curry rice in front of Goro without a word or even a glance. His spoon was placed the same way as Kurusu's.

            "Thank you, Sakura-san." How had it taken this long to realize how famished he was? He resisted the urge to scarf it all down.

            Just when he thought Sakura-san would ignore his thanks, the man gave him a single nod of response, a minute turn of his head in Goro's direction. He left the boys to their curry (Morgana sneaking a taste of Kurusu's) as he leaned on the counter to watch the morning news.

            "Say, Kurusu..." Goro began, stifling a flutter of shyness, "do you think I was able to help a lot of people as a detective?"

            There was something about Kurusu that felt...safe. Like he could say whatever was on his mind and it'd be okay. He felt a burning sense of purpose that _had_ to have come from before the memory loss. Perhaps the other boy would know something about this.

            However, Kurusu didn't answer right away. He lowered his gaze thoughtfully the way he tended to do and never looked back up. "Yeah. I'm sure you did, Akechi."

            Goro smiled, smothering the horrible feeling in his gut. "Good. Something I just know about myself is that I want to build a better society." He wanted to be a hero—but he'd choke on his own tongue before saying _that_ aloud. "If I had memories of accomplishing that, even a little...maybe that's all I need to be satisfied," he mused.

            Damn. He'd gone on far too long, letting his mouth run away with itself.

            But at least Kurusu's eyes were back on him again, now as if really seeing him. Goro felt the shift with a slight shiver.

            "That's something we have in common, Akechi," he replied, lips curling into a secretive little smile that hinted at unexplored depths.

            "Is that so?"

            But Kurusu said no more, happily digging into his curry, making that seamless transition once more between enigma and normal high-school kid.

            Morgana shook his head. "Typical."

            So Goro faced him, instead. "So, Mona, what's on the agenda for today?"

            "I told you not to call me that," he grumbled.

            Goro waited.

            "Well, since you're up and about, as Sojiro said, do you want to meet the rest of Akira's friends?"

            The "other people involved," as Kurusu had put it? Would they hate him like everyone else? With a million doubts plaguing his mind, Goro naturally replied, "Of course. The more the merrier."

            Morgana's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I'm glad you said that, since you don't really have a choice in the matter, anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about "pure" coffee shops, they are called junkissa! I would have visited them more often in Japan, but people are allowed to smoke indoors and it just ruins the atmosphere >.<  
> One day, however, I shall find my Leblanc!
> 
> My trash Twitter: https://twitter.com/Xyalin26


	4. Two Truths and a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a sentence: Goro re-meets the Phantom Thieves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to take a long walk and then it started storming ~.~ Looks like I'll be uploading this chapter instead!  
> Huh...they keep getting longer and longer...

*

            The air was thick enough to cut with a knife and Goro didn't know why. A group of high-schoolers sat facing him in the attic. Goro took the spot on the bed again because he was starting to ache despite the painkillers. At least his throat felt okay enough to talk without much hassle.

            "Hello," he said in his most friendly manner, smiling his most social smile.

            Uncomfortable shifting. Clearly there was an elephant in the room to which everyone except Goro was privy.

            "How are you feeling?" asked the girl with short brown hair. Her tone was kind, yet cautious.

            He kept up his cheerful disposition, braving the exponentially growing discomfort. "Takemi-san's painkillers definitely help, but I admit I've probably felt better. Although, because I lost my memories, I suppose I can't know for sure, now can I?" Self-deprecating laugh here, tension eased.

            Well, ideally. This type of charm had worked when he saw himself on the talk show. Everyone here wore blank faces, except the blond, delinquent-looking guy who groaned. "Dude, you still tell those lame jokes?"

            Expression puzzled, Goro asked, "Is this something I do a lot?"

            "It was only in interviews, man. Keep it that way."

            "Really? I only remember the Santa Clause one," piped up another blonde. On her, however, the color was natural. A Eurasian beauty.

            "I wish I heard it..." Futaba was back. "I would've repeated them to him and he'd cringe so bad. Like that time I found his food blog."

            _Why would I have a food blog...?_ he wondered. He didn't particularly care about the taste of food. The curry had been delectable simply because yes, it was decent, but moreover, it was a warm, homey meal when he was starving.

            Aloud, he said, "Not to interrupt whatever conversation this was, but could everyone I haven't met yet introduce themselves?"

            "This is really weird," the blond boy muttered.

            He was Ryuji Sakamoto, the foreign girl was Ann Takamaki, the mysterious boy that Futaba liked to poke at every so often was Yusuke Kitagawa, the brown-haired girl with the mature air was Makoto Nijima, and the curly-haired girl with the veiled gaze was Haru Okumura.

            As they were unsure how to proceed from there, Goro was more than happy to take charge. "Kurusu was reluctant to tell me how I landed myself in this situation since he wanted to confer with all of you. Now that you're here, shall we get started?"

            The group exchanged reticent glances. Would he ever stop feeling this blatant exclusion? Would people ever stop treating him like a biohazard?

            Sakamoto began eloquently with an, "Um—uh—" before Nijima intervened, eyes closed for a moment in what was probably an internal sigh.

            "Let's begin with the Phantom Thieves," she said.

            That name sounded familiar, so Goro grasped onto it. Wasn't that what he had been talking about that day in his interview? The criminals who "stole hearts" through unknown methods. The Detective Prince had believed that they deserved a trial for obstructing justice and was working with the police to capture them.

            "Oh, right!" Takamaki said. "Do you remember anything about the Phantom Thieves?"

            Goro had no reason to lie to them. "Barely. They're a bad group. They forcibly changed the hearts of whoever crossed them. I wanted them to face justice when I worked as a detective and..." Come to think of it, he'd received some harsh backlash for it.

            Kitagawa spoke up for the first time, "You certainly remember a lot for someone with total amnesia."

            There was no way he could tell them about his bizarre dream. "When I woke up this morning, I remembered a little about my life before." Just one day in the thousands he had lived. Kitagawa eyed him suspiciously.

            "You and the Phantom Thieves are...complicated," Nijima continued. "When they changed someone's heart, it was only because the target had hurt a lot of people."

            "You almost talk as if you know them, Nijima-san," said Goro. Supporters? Fans? Friends?

            "You could say that," replied Sakamoto with a snicker.

            Intrigued, Goro leaned forward and waited for more.

            "We might as well tell him," said Takamaki. "There's no point hiding it, especially since he's not going to be—" She shut her mouth mid-sentence as if she'd said too much.

            Goro swiftly checked Kurusu's reaction for anything telling, but he was as unreadable as ever.

            "A fine idea, Lady Ann." Morgana cleared his throat dramatically as if to make an announcement, but Kurusu cut him off with, "We're the Phantom Thieves."

            Morgana yelped in frustration. "Akira, you _tennen_!"

            Goro couldn't help but feel as if he were in the midst of a delicious drama. "Oh, now this is good...So it seems I never brought you to justice." Some Detective Prince. He was a little disappointed in himself, especially since the bumbling Sakamoto was a part of the team.

            But the next second, he connected the dots and felt a frisson of sudden fear prick the hairs on his neck and arms. He must have discovered their identities and they beat him nearly to death to teach him a lesson. What else could it be? And here he sat, one against seven when he was already weak from his injuries. He hoped, at least, that this conclusion didn't show on his face. At least they couldn't beat his pride out of him.

            "Are you here to finish what you started, then?" Goro gestured to his injuries.

            Kitagawa was the first to catch his meaning. "You've misunderstood."

            Futaba's hand shot up. "Ch-Chat break!" She pulled out her phone and began to text with fingers tapping furiously across the screen.

            With apologetic looks at him from everyone else except Sakamoto, Morgana, and Kitagawa, they all joined in.

            "Are you...Are you texting about me while I'm right in front of you?" If there was ever an opportunity for the word "flabbergasted"...

            "Sorry, Akechi-kun, but we'd like to handle this as delicately as possible," Nijima explained.

            "No, no, don't mind me," he replied drily.

            A few excruciatingly long minutes later, they put their phones away and turned their attention back to him. It was still unnerving having all these eyes on him, especially when he was vulnerable and still sort of chained to the bed by his wounds. Strangely, it was a comfort to have Morgana next to him again, claiming the comfiest spot in the room after having peeked over Kurusu's shoulder for the texting session.

            Silently elected spokesperson Nijima asked, "First off, do you remember anything about us? I mean, us as ourselves and not as the Phantom Thieves. Anything at all?"

            Goro thought back for a moment, averting his gaze to the comforter he sat on so all their staring wouldn't distract him.

            "No. All I have are brief memories of Kurusu-kun from Leblanc. And, of course, Sojiro Sakura-san," he answered. "Why? Who was I to all of you?"

            More shifting. Ah, they hadn't expected this one. Suppressing a smirk, he wondered why that question seemed to throw them off.

            Kurusu spoke up before the silence lasted too long. "You're our friend, Akechi."

            He stopped himself from snorting in disbelief. Everyone's expression appeared to genuinely agree, to his surprise. However, he didn't miss the way Okumura's lips tightened and the way her eyes took on a steely glint. Futaba's gaze fell to the floor, and she hugged her knees to her chest. It was like she'd become a different person.

            _But the rest of them...they truly believe it, then?_

            "Hey, you wanna know what's better?" Takamaki grinned. " _You_ were a Phantom Thief, too, for a little while."

            Goro returned a blank smile. "Was that Takamaki-brand humor?"

            Even Sakamoto was looking a little friendlier. "She left out the part about you blackmailing us into letting you join up though."

            Goro's eyebrows raised in surprise, an authentic reaction this time. The Detective Prince played dirty, then. That would explain Okumura's and Futaba's adversity to him. And the tense air, in general.

            "Why would I want to join you in the first place? Why not simply arrest you?"

            Nijima smiled, a mirthless one that didn't meet her eyes. Voice softer now, "There was someone whose heart you wanted to change."

            "I see..." So the Detective Prince was also a hypocrite. Well, no one was perfect. Either way, there was something fun about analyzing his pre-amnesiac self as if he were a different person.

            And now for the question he so desperately wanted answered. So desperate he wouldn't even mind skipping over everything else.

            "Now, what I really want to know is this: if you didn't do this to me, then who did?"

            They all looked at each other again with their own mannerisms of uncertainty. He tapped his finger on the bed, relieving his own nervous tension and impatient for their response. Did they constantly have to stop and make eyes at each other to give him one simple answer? It was so uncomfortable that Goro was sure Futaba would call chat break again.

            And perhaps she would have if Kurusu's voice hadn't broken through the tense air with a single name.

            "Masayoshi Shido."

            A sharp intake of breath from Nijima. An unhappy grunt from Kitagawa. Okumura remained quiet, expression regretful under lowered lids.

            "Akira!" Takamaki blurted. "I don't think you should— It's not..."

            Having to monitor her words caused her to trail off with a sound of exasperation and give up.

            "Shido _is_ the asshole responsible for effing up his life." Sakamoto, of all people, was now the voice of reason. "Shouldn't he get a chance for revenge?" He slapped a fist into his palm, sporting a jaunty grin.

            "I don't think we said anything about him joining us, Ryuji," Nijima said in what Goro deemed her tired mother voice.

            "Why not? Beating Shido will be ten times easier with him along. Plus, I wanna see that sick persona of his when it's not—"

            Nijima shot him a warning look. Goro clenched his teeth to stop himself from snapping at her to stop with all these secrets and just tell him! Didn't he have a right to his own memories?

            "Uh, y-you know, I wanna see it in action," Sakamoto finished lamely.

            Fine. He'd let it slide. After all, he had finally received the answer he'd so desired and then some. At one point, he'd gotten a little lost from something Sakamoto had said, but he caught the gist.

            "So you're going after the man who attacked me and say having me on your team would make things easier?" Goro clapped his palms together, bringing forefingers to his lips as he calculated whether he would regret his forthcoming declaration. "If that's the case, I would like to renew my Phantom Thieves membership and try a heist, myself."

            " _Jeez_ , we're not some afterschool club, you know." Goro noted gleefully that Sakamoto was about as easy to rile up as Morgana. "Even without your memories, you're obnoxious."

            With a smirk, Goro tilted his head over to where Kurusu was standing. "And _these_ are supposed to be my friends, Kurusu-kun?"

            "Ryuji's nice to you when it counts," was all he replied in consolation.

            "Damn right, I _was_ pretty nice back there—"

            "Ryuji." Nijima's tired mother voice again.

            Goro did his best to memorize the conversation for when he regained his memories, like re-watching a movie and catching hints of foreshadowing.

            "Just sayin', it's a friend's job to tell you when you're being obnoxious."

            "Ryuji, you called him obnoxious from the get-go," Futaba pointed out.

            Even though it was only Sakamoto, it still stung a bit.

            "That aside," Goro cut through their bickering, "I _would_ like to join you in taking down Shido. Judging by the healthy state of everyone here, I did this by taking him on alone. In this large a group, do you believe we can come out relatively unscathed?"

            Nijima answered hesitantly, "That should be the case, but..."

            "Ah, let 'im join already," said Sakamoto. "I mean back in that boiler room place, everyone was like 'yeah, come with us' and all that—"

            "I think it might be a good idea!" Takamaki interrupted. This time he wasn't sure if she'd done it purposefully or if she was just an airhead.

            "Chat break!" Futaba called again.

            They didn't bother with the sympathetic looks this time. At some point while they texted, Kurusu consulted Morgana in a hushed tone before sending the last message. After that, they all put their phones away and looked back up like some sort of hive mind. If it was Kurusu's room they had taken Goro to, did that make the quiet, curly-haired boy their queen?

            "Welcome to the team, Akechi," said Kurusu.

            "I'm honored." He let some sarcasm drip into his voice. He did _not_ like the conflicting combination of resentment toward their exclusion (like some self-important clique) and an unwanted sense of pride that he was accepted onto their team.

            He didn't quite believe they were his friends with the reticence they displayed along with their idiotic "chat breaks," but he'd gotten his information and now he had a goal.

            _Prepare yourself, Masayoshi Shido._

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random notes:
> 
> I'm going to keep Ryuji's eff because it's just so...Ryuji! However, am I the only one who finds it weird when young people say bastard? I think asshole is a lot more...contemporary. Bastard sounds a few decades old, in my opinion. Actually, I accidentally typed asshold instead of asshole and was really amused when I went back to edit. I just hope I don't write Shiho instead of Shido... ^^;
> 
> On a more serious note, I wonder what you guys think about Akira's decision to pin the blame on Shido? This is one of the times where I remain ambivalent as a writer (since these things pop into my head out of nowhere sometimes) and let things unfold, not trying to push right or wrong onto people. I think of Akira as someone who will do the right thing, but is definitely more of a neutral than a lawful type (the only thing I know about D&D).
> 
> Here I refer to Ann as the foreign girl because, from my research, that's sort of how she's seen in Japan. It doesn't matter whether you're a native or not, if you have mixed blood, you'll always be a bit of an outsider, whether people consciously think this or carry it as a subconscious thought. Throughout her life, Ann was made to feel like an outsider because of her looks. 
> 
> Before I forget, doctors in Japan have -sensei attached to their name rather than -san, but because of the relationship Takemi has with the protagonist and Phantom Thieves, in general, perhaps, I opted for -san. BUT, I don't know how she's referred to in the Japanese version, so sorry if I ever get anyone's honorifics wrong >< Sometimes I know what they used and sometimes I don't. If someone knows and wants to correct me anytime, PLEASE DO!
> 
> Finally, Morgana calls Akira a "tennen," which I define as the type of airhead who can be endearing and accidentally has comedic timing though Morgana's just calling him a space cadet here. Sometimes Akira is an accidental tennen, sometimes an on-purpose tennen, but from my experience, if something can be interpreted as either rude or tennen, Japanese people tend to give you the benefit of the doubt and think you're tennen.  
> Um...did that make sense? I don't think I'm very good at explaining these things XD
> 
> My trash Twitter: https://twitter.com/Xyalin26


	5. Let's Learning Persona Summon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann shows Goro the ropes in Mementos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I like to use quotes for my summaries, but the best way to sum up this chapter is some variation of "Ann and Goro." Yes, yes, it's still Shuake, but Goro-kun needs his friendship time with everyone, too!
> 
> Thanks for all the nice comments so far ^^ If I don't respond to your comment, it's because I feel like I'd only have something redundant to say—just letting you guys know!

*

A few days later, Goro was deemed ready for action. Well, low tier action. Apparently, it was "Metaverse healing" and all that sleeping he did that lent to his swift recuperation. Aside from some stiffness, he was more or less up to "light movement," as the group put it.

            Kurusu's terse "Get ready" was the only thing that prepared Goro for his world warping around him. Otherwise, he would have thought it was some sort of amnesiac seizure—if such a thing existed. Gone was the bright and bustling Shibuya station and in its place a dark, hallowed subway. There was an eerie wail to the air that gave him a terrible sense of foreboding. When he turned to his new teammates, any questions he had died on his lips.

            What were they all wearing? It was like some sort of vigilante costume party. At that moment, Goro realized that he, too, wore a mask and his own elaborate garments.

            _What the hell is this?_ He tapped the beak point of his crimson plague doctor-like mask. Or more natively, it was like that of a proud _tengu_.

            "Welcome to Mementos, Akechi," said Futaba.

            "It does make sense that you'd still change outfits if you can hear me," Morgana commented.

            The cat Goro had been expecting to see now took a much different form. Morgana stood on two legs and sported his own mask and black outfit to match. Goro could only gape at the transformation.

            "I _told_ you I wasn't a cat," he said.

            Goro refrained from pointing out that he still resembled a cat, albeit an alien one. Was this yet another elaborate dream? Either way, nothing seemed to phase him anymore. More importantly, why did everyone else have a better costume than him? Maybe it would have been alright without the beak mask...

            While everyone was concentrating on weapon preparation and the like, Goro's eyes lingered a little longer on Kurusu. Now _that_ was what one could call a "Phantom Thief." His tailcoat and waistcoat were reminiscent of a dashing gentleman thief. It certainly did more for the figure than Goro's cavalry shoulder pads. He felt a flush in his cheeks, now a bit more thankful that his mask was big and red. Kurusu's demeanor had changed entirely, matching his new look. Gone was the quiet attic boy and in his place a commanding figure.

            "Right," Kurusu said. "Code names."

            Yet another transformation. His voice rang clear with confidence and authority. Goro felt something akin to butterflies when he heard the difference, and promptly ignored the sensation.

            Everyone had code names based more or less on their thief identity. For example, Skull was obviously derived from Sakamoto's mask, while Queen was obviously derived from Nijima's dominatrix tendencies lying dormant under an honor's student façade. He made a note not to get on her bad side.

            "So I'm Crow because of the beak?" Goro assumed upon learning his old code name.

            "You're the one that came up with it," Sakamoto replied.

            "I'm sure there was irony involved," said Nijima.

            "I suppose it'll do," Goro said, even though the only thing Crow-like was his mask. "Is anyone going to explain to me why our clothes changed and why the subway looks like the set of a horror movie?"

            "Nope!" Ever-the-helpful Futaba. Well, the joke was on her; she was the only one whose costume was weirder than his.

            "Everyone remember our targets?" Kurusu asked.

            A chorus of yeps.

            "Good." He turned to Goro, eyes blazing with a playful fire behind his mask. "Akechi, you'll be with Ann on the first floor today. She'll go over everything you need to know about the Metaverse and using your persona."

            Ann nodded with an encouraging smile at Goro. They had probably discussed this beforehand so that Kurusu wouldn't have been foisting him on her unexpectedly.

            They split up after descending the escalator. A gasp escaped Goro as a black bus appeared right where Morgana had been. What's more were the cat ears and tail still on the vehicle...and why did those headlights look like his bright blue eyes?!

            "Mor-Mor-Mor—" This had to be a dream, it had to be a dream.

            "Akira, he's glitching again." Futaba's voice pulled him back.

            "I was shocked when I saw him transform for the first time, as well." It was Okumura, voice hesitant but gentle.

            This had to have been the first time he'd heard her outside of soft discussion with one of the group members next to her back in the attic. Despite his urge to respond and draw her out, he couldn't find anything to say. All that would come out was a light, nervous laugh.

            Sakamoto chuckled. "Yeah, I forgot how bizarre it was."

            "To the Mona-mobile!" Futaba pointed her index finger sky-high.

            Goro watched in awe as everyone but Takamaki and him clambered in the Morgana bus. Kurusu was the last to go, giving him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder before taking heading in to take the wheel. With a sharp sound of acceleration, Morgana sped off.

            "Guess it's just you and me now," said Takamaki, a cheerful note to her tone.

            Goro felt a release of tension he hadn't even known he was holding. Like letting go of his shoulders after finally noticing that they'd been slowly hunching up while studying or doing detective work. Another memory that came to him intuitively rather than experientially.

            For once, someone besides Kurusu wasn't treating him like roadside trash or radioactive material. More than that, Takamaki was _friendly_. Kurusu claimed they'd all been friends with him, but she was the only one that seemed to extend a hand to him, actually smile at him.

            "I appreciate it, Takamaki-san," he said with probably too much sincerity.

            Why this gushing of emotion at simple kindness? It wasn't as if he lacked adoration, being more idol than detective judging by the reception he'd received at the talk show, especially from the female demographic.

            "Appreciate what?" she asked.

            Ah, he supposed what he'd said hadn't quite made sense. "Showing me the ropes." His small lie came smoothly.

            "No problem! Actually, it feels kinda good that they chose me, you know? Since Makoto or Yusuke understands all this better than me." Then, more to herself, "Well, Makoto's our strategist, Akira's our leader, and Mona's the transportation, so I guess the options were limited anyway..."

            He smiled at Takamaki. "Kurusu-kun really trusts you. I could tell right away." Again, this overriding need to please, to make her love him. It put his charisma back in gear, at the very least. From a detached place, he watched himself grasp desperately onto Takamaki's warmth as if it would flicker out to cold indifference if he so much as blinked.

            And, of course, Takamaki accepted his words brightly. "You really think so? I mean, I guess I already knew that since he trusts all of us with a lot, but it's nice to hear."

            Another pang of jealousy he repressed with a smile and a nod. "Shall we be going?"

            As she explained in layman's terms everything that came to mind about the Metaverse, Mementos, and personas, Goro did his best to absorb it and ignore this grotesque cavern of a place. The only resemblance it bore to the subway was the train tracks, though webs of red and black substance covered them in splotches. The same wail he'd heard above was louder here, with the occasional moaning. The purple lighting made everything worse. God did he want to get out of there as soon as possible. Takamaki freaked out every so often at a noise, too.

            "Oh! There's a shadow!" Defying common sense, she ran _toward_ the disgusting skulking figure.

            Time to use his persona...however it worked.

            Like Morgana, the shadow also transformed in a flash, except into an oozing blue blob with a demonic glowing eye and long stumps for arms supporting the rest of it like pillars.

            "Ew, we got a slime this time," said Takamaki. "I can beat this guy in one hit even without a persona, so I'll supervise."

            "Couldn't I at least get a weapon like the rest of you?"

            "Oh, um, Akira's working on that. For now, summon Robin Hood and take out the slime!"

            "Robin Hood?" Like the story?

            "That's your persona's name." Takamaki was starting to sound concerned. What part of no memories did she not understand? "Or Loki? Does that ring a bell?"

            The mythological figure. He was starting to see a pattern. Nothing relevant to his persona, however. "Not in the slightest." Another nervous laugh as the slime inched toward him.

            Takamaki giggled as he backed away, so he shot her a quick murderous glance.

            "Hm...what would Morgana say? Um, how about: look inside yourself and harness your rebellious spirit!"

            Earlier, Takamaki _had_ explained that personas were a manifestation of a person's rebellious will. Goro found it hard to be rebellious when he all he wanted to do was run away screaming.

            "P-Perhaps a demonstration would help?"

            Eyes wide with an unvoiced "oh!" at her lips, Takamaki said, "I didn't think of that! Let's try it."

            She yelled the name Hecate and ripped, rather than took off, her leathery mask, blood splattering the ground, red as her suit.

            "T-Takamaki-san?!"

            _What did I get myself into...?_

But Takamaki hadn't so much as winced, so...had it been merely an illusion?

            A burst of smoke revealed a black and red feminine figure of impossibly sharp angles. The being wielded a chain in each hand, ending in wolfish blue heads ready to devour their prey.

            Hecate, was it? He racked his brain. _The outsider goddess, sometimes theorized to be foreign. Fitting for Takamaki-san. Hecate was often subject to much misinterpretation...I wonder if that was the case, as well..._

Simple as that, this being she called her persona incinerated the slime with a bored flick of the wrist.

            "So that's that," said Takamaki, oblivious to Goro's jaw dropping open. She didn't give him a moment to recover and rounded on him innocently, "Think you can do it now?"

            "Er..."

            A thought crossed his mind: what would they do with him if they realized he wasn't useful?

            _That won't happen. I_ will _learn how to summon my persona._

Takamaki bit her lip. "We really are just throwing you in, huh? Sorry about that..."

            "No, I'm the one who should apologize. I insisted on joining the Phantom Thieves, after all."

            Her normally bright blue eyes (far more pleasant than Morgana's) were downcast as the two of them continued along the floor. They didn't spot many shadows, but when they did enter battle, Goro still couldn't summon either Robin Hood or Loki. One time, he'd shouted his supposed personas' names dramatically as Ann had...resulting in both the pixie shadows and Takamaki blinking at him in the expectant silence. He hadn't even tried defending himself when the pixies mocked him, and glumly let Takamaki finish the job. It was only after tearing his mask off and shouting, "LOKI!" only for nothing to happen that he finally gave up. Takamaki's giggling may have been a factor.

            "I'm so glad Akira chose me for the task," she said, mood inversely proportional to his just then.

            "I'm glad, too," he admitted in spite of himself. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you're the only one who may not mind that I'm useless to the Phantom Thieves in my current state."

            Takamaki regarded him with a new look in her eyes, suddenly serious. "Akechi-kun, you shouldn't—" Then, switching gears, "Wait, first, can I just call you Goro? And no more Takamaki-san. Just Ann is okay!"

            "U-Um, if you really want to," he said, cultural memory bank telling him he wasn't supposed to be this flustered about the last to first name transition.

            Come to think of it, in that one day of memories, he'd only been some form of Akechi: Akechi-kun, Akecchi, Ake-chan by one fan who treated him like some boy group idol. Never Goro. The thought was a little sad...

            No stranger to social cues, however, Takamaki compromised with him: "Okay, Goro-kun, then." He heard an undercurrent of amusement at his expense.

            As they walked, her gait became a little bouncier, the way it was when they'd first arrived. When things were idle, she swung her arms the way she couldn't walking in the real Shibuya, letting her hands clap together. She seemed more relaxed around him now as she mentally formed the thing she'd planned to say to him earlier.

            "Goro-kun...haha, that feels kinda weird!"

            _Then spare us both the embarrassment and go back to Akechi..._

"Anyway," she continued, "I don't want you to think like that around us, okay? Like whether you're useful, or that 'eat or be eaten' mindset. You know what I mean?"

            "Taka—A-Ann-chan," catching the look on her face, he made the switch, "I appreciate you saying that, but the fact of the matter is that I joined your team to help you take down Masayoshi Shido. Despite what Kurusu said, you and he are the only ones who seem to want to associate with me for any reason beyond that."

            Ann let out a breath and took a moment before responding. It meant that much more than if she had quickly denied it no matter how emphatic.

            "This whole situation with you is...complicated. I'm going to be really honest. I don't know if you'll be able to patch things up with Haru and Futaba. I can't speak for the whole team, but it felt like everyone else wants to be friends with you. All of us _do_ care about you. That I know for sure."

            "Complicated," Goro repeated.

            Ann clasped her hands behind her back, humming thoughtfully. "So do you want to be friends with us, too?"

            He knew he was blushing again; he blushed too easily and he hated it. But Ann Takamaki...did such directness come from her American side?

            Ah, yes, she was waiting for an answer, yet his mind was completely blank. Of course it did. If that was the case, what was the first answer that sprang to mind? Did he want to be friends with them? _Yes, more than anything._

            Mortifying. There was no way he could say that.

            His only comfort at the moment was that he appeared calm and collected on the outside.

            "I think I'd like that," he answered.

            Ann grinned. "Well, then, there you go, right? Just keep being yourself and it'll all work out."

            _She sounds like an anime_. "You sound like an anime." Well, she _did_ just tell him to be himself.

            Luckily, Ann laughed at that. "I know, I know. But it's true! Before this, you were a little...unsure about showing us who you really were."

            "Hm...? And this was _after_ I blackmailed you?"

            "Oh, um, yeah."

            What more was there to hide? It must have been some personal reason obviously now forgotten. Did it have something to do with the way he clung to Ann's approval without even thinking?

            "Perhaps things will be different this time around," was all he could say to that.

            But he truly believed it. Goro had a feeling that memories were nothing but a burden.

            "I hope so...But if not, that's okay, too. You'll still be invited to all the hot pot parties."

            Goro fingered his chin. "I do enjoy hot pot."

            Again, not necessarily for the taste, but rather for the faint impressions it brought of friends, gathering, warmth...belonging. Had he ever had anyone to share hot pot with?

            Ann flashed him another grin in response.

            Then, the rattle of chains.

            "That sounds...new," said Goro.

            Ann swore under her breath. "We gotta get out of here." When the sound approached even closer and the air around them grew colder, she shouted, "Run!"

            As they sprinted, he asked breathlessly, "What _is_ that thing?"

            "That's the Reaper. He wasn't supposed to be able to reach this high, though!"

            In an accelerating swoop, the floating red creature gained on them. Where was the escalator?! He was sure it was close, yet not close enough. Goro shivered as the air turned frigid. At this rate, they'd be caught for sure.

            Spinning abruptly on a red-booted heel, Ann faced the Reaper. "Looks like we'll have to fight, Crow."

            Ah, yes. The code names.

            "Can't Hecate fire blast it into oblivion like the others?" A frantic edge wore on her voice.

            Ann was shaking now, frozen to the spot. Facing the enemy with Goro was practically the same as facing it alone.

            He was completely powerless. Powerless and helpless and defenseless. That idiot Kurusu hadn't even supplied him with a weapon.

            Casting off its glamor, the Reaper stood tall before them in all its red- and black-cloaked glory. The red looked eerily like blood splatter.

            "Panther!" he called to her, but she remained still, eyes wide and legs trembling.

            " _Ann!_ " That got through to her.

            But too late. An attack blindsided him, sending him careening into the dirt.

            "P-Persona!"

            Hecate's fire was like a matchstick to this thing. Goro's eyes shut against his will and all he could hear was the Reaper's croaking laugh echoing throughout the floor.

            _No...I refuse...to die here!_ He wouldn't black out now, he _wouldn't_!

            _"Do you seek another awakening? We're still here, if only you could remember how to call on our power..."_

That voice! It rang clearly through his mind, most definitely not his own.

            _"Succomb and remember,"_ it said.

            And the world slowly gave way to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Ann and Goro have surprisingly good chemistry! The characters sort of have a mind of their own so I feel like they write themselves, rather than the other way around. They surprise even me sometimes ~.~
> 
> My trash Twitter: https://twitter.com/Xyalin26


	6. Another Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Goro did have a job to do. Otherwise, he'd have begged the mysterious voice to kill him then and there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I had a crazy week. How are you guys doing?

*

            It was sheer will that kept Goro going in this garish underworld. Curious to a fault, he couldn't resist the app with the ominous eye that had started pulsating even after he'd blinked repeatedly to clear his vision. He tapped on it and now here he was. Now this was mysterious...

            After exploring his surroundings a bit, he tried tapping the app in a number of ways to get back, even attempted voice command. Ten minutes later, he faced the fact that he was trapped. On he walked, nevertheless, until he reached an escalator.

            _It has to lead_ somewhere _,_ he figured. It hadn't taken him long to realize he'd been thrust into some nightmare anti-Shibuya, so he didn't bother with the trains that never stopped.

            Down, down he went...

            And nothing. A red wall where the next set of escalators should have been. He searched every inch for a button or handle of some sort, pressing on it just in case that would activate it.     

            Still nothing.

            Goro let out a hissed curse, and it broke the dam holding back the fury burning in his chest. With a yell that he could never release in the real world, he pounded and pounded the barrier until his hands were bloody. Over and over, and not because he still thought he could actually break through.

            At some point, a calm settled over him and he felt the chill of the air once again. Whenever Goro was seized by some strong emotional fit, he always knew he was back to normal when he could feel the temperature of the air.

            Huh. He decided to yell and hit things more often. It had been rather...cathartic.

            Pacified from his outburst and consequential exhaustion, Goro went back up the escalator in case he'd missed something.

            The app still wasn't responding, but he continued to poke at it half-heartedly.

            After turning his heavy-lidded gaze from the ground to what lay ahead, he froze. It took a moment to register the black alien beast running toward him with plodding steps. Thank God something clicked in his brain, shouting at him to MOVE.

            Scream torn from his throat, Goro sprinted any which way—only to get another one of those creatures on his tail. Where was that escalator?!

            Dead end.

            No. No, no, no, no—

            The creature wailed with such a grating sound that Goro covered his ears. He stumbled back, tripping over himself and landing on his ass before he could process what'd just happened.

            In a flash of smoke and black, their forms changed to two black blobs. Grosser-looking, if possible, but slightly less threatening. When one of them crawled to take a swipe at him, he shielded himself with his arm.

            The raw stripes of his flesh blazed with agony as warm blood dripped onto his pants and stuck the material of his shirt to his skin.

            When the creature emitted a strange light, Goro felt the life drain from him. His energy level plummeted. Death was coming. He sensed it. He _knew_ it.

            Attracted by the scent of blood or fear, more shadows came to the scene. Soon, he was faced down by a horde of these monsters.

            _No,_ he thought, _I refuse to be killed by the likes of you!_

His heart hammered in his chest as a wave of warmth and strength swept through his body, cold from weakness.

            That euphoria was soon replaced by a wrenching pain that seared his insides, a pressure in his head like a migraine so piercing he was sure he'd explode. As sweat poured down his face, he yelled in agony. Red spots bloomed across his vision that was slowly turning black, as everything else faded to background.

            _"Giving up before the real work has begun?"_

A smooth voice tinged with amusement spoke directly to his mind, followed by a harsh cackle.

            Goro clutched his head as pangs jolted through his head, his chest, his whole body.

            _"These cretins are nothing_ _to your true potential. Will you lay down and die before you have the chance to find it?"_

 _No!_ Goro answered the voice. _Not yet._

He _did_ have a job to do. Otherwise, he'd have begged the mysterious voice to kill him then and there.

            _"Good, good. Then, shall we make a deal?"_

A metal visor materialized over his head. Gone was his school uniform and in its place a body suit cinched haphazardly with buckles.

            "Yes, Loki," Goro declared. "Take my resolve and feed me your strength. Aid me in my vendetta and I will give you _everything_!"

            A black mask covered the upper half of his face as a tall form appeared next to him, all black and white stripes. Without hesitation, Goro ripped the mask off.

            It hurt. It was as if he ripped off his skin, and yet...it felt good?

            And then, the pain dissolved into an ecstasy like he'd never felt. It was dangerous, it was _intoxicating_. He was a god that would make all these vile creatures bow to him.

            Goro swiped through the first few, letting out a raucous laugh as waves of pleasure swept through his body. For the first time, he felt so light, so free as he vanquished the creatures for the fun of it.

            For the grand finale: "Destroy the rest, Loki!"

            A single snap of the persona's fingers and all were obliterated.

            "Serves you right."

 

* * *

 

            "Crow! You gotta wake up, already!"

            Ann's panic-laced voice, then a shot of fire.

            There was a beat before Goro could act on what he heard, his brain connecting to his muscles again.

            On his hands and knees, he watched her helplessly. Then, as if someone had suddenly taken control of him, Goro ripped off his red mask and cried, "Come! Ame-no-Uzume!"

            Fans in hand, the persona danced into the scene. Her elegance belied a natural jubilance that would endure no matter the enemy.

            _Just in time_. Ann had been thrown back, staggering in fatigue and damage taken from the Reaper.

            "Ice age!" Goro commanded.

            As the blizzarding winds knocked the Reaper back, catching him off-guard, Goro catapulted from the ground to a run for Ann, who lay dazed.

            Fortunately, she was still conscious, though barely. As with Ice Age, he just knew that Ame-no-Uzume knew Diarama. It didn't heal her Ann the way, but it was enough for a pick-me-up to sustain her as they bolted to the escalator.

            In spite of how filthy that top floor of Mementos was (it really was), Goro and Ann both slumped down to catch their breath.

            Once they recovered, Ann burst into giggles.

            "T-Takamaki...?"

            She let them fade, wiping away stray tear, and corrected him, "I told you, it's Ann."

            Right, she was Ann-chan now.

            "Sorry," she said, "I just really thought we were done for back there, and it took you a minute to wake up even with Hecate's strongest healing."

            Goro allowed himself a shaky laugh. "I'm pretty relieved, too, A-Ann-chan."

            "That's more like it!"

            Now that they were safe and he could think again, he asked, "Have you told me about Ame-no-Uzume yet? I only remember hearing about Robin Hood, and Loki was the one that came to me in my dream..."

            Ann pursed her lips in uncertainty. "Now that you mention it, where _did_ she come from? We all thought you only had two personas. Maybe you were hiding it..." But she looked unsure.

            "Why would I hide it?"

            Ann jerked a little in surprise, as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud. "W-Well, we already saw Loki, so...there really wouldn't be a reason to hide it, I guess."

            Russet eyes met hers intently.

            "D-Don't look at me like that, okay?" Her own eyes darted back and forth nervously. "To be honest, we didn't know much about you until way later. You hid, like, everything from us until you..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip.

            Well this was news. But it fit what he knew about his own personality so far. "Until I what?" he pressed, regretting the cold edge that he had unintentionally injected into his tone.

            Ann winced, unconsciously hugging her arms. "Until, maybe, you couldn't take it anymore?"

            What was he supposed to infer from that? It told him nothing! Still, he found it hard to direct this ever-present hair-trigger temper at Ann. He knew sincerity when he heard it, even if he resented her evasiveness. And besides, if he snapped at her, and she took back the warmth and kindness she had offered him...? Somehow he couldn't take it, and he hated that clinging dependency he discovered in himself.

            "Don't get mad, okay? I'm not trying to make things confusing, but everything was _already_ confusing."

            "Then, tell me: I couldn't take it anymore and then what?"

            Ann looked away, this time out of sympathy rather than avoidance. "You kinda just...snapped."

            His eyebrows shot up. "Me?"

            Yeah, he could get pretty pissed (that he knew well), but his self-control was _far_ too efficient to snap. From Ann's clear mixture of pity and discomfort showing on her face, he ruled out the possibility of her exaggerating.

            How he desperately wished that _that_ had been the day Igor restored to memory.

            "Well," he said a bit breathily, wearing the nervous smile that crept up as soon as he was at a loss. "I'm sure that was sufficiently embarrassing."

            Half of him wanted details so he could stop imagining a plethora of humiliating scenarios and the other half wanted to run far, far away. He heard Botswana was nice this time of year.

            Ann bit her lower lip again. No anime girl answer this time. "Goro-kun..."

            Questions whirled around high-speed in his head, begging to be asked, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

            "I'll stop interrogating you now, Ann-chan." More pleasant this time—pleasant smile, pleasant voice. Because he was capable of self-control.

            Then, on a whim of trust, he confided, "Something inside is telling me I don't want to know, anyway."

            Ann nodded, meeting his eyes this time. "Once you're ready, come ask me and I'll do my best to answer whatever questions you have. Unless you get your memories back first, of course!" There was a trace of worry behind the smile she returned.

            "It's a deal," he said, and meant it.

            With a clap of her hands, Ann said, "Oh, that's right! When you were passed out, I was finally able to reach Futaba. They were too far down to help us, especially since the floor layout changes every time you visit it, but they should be coming back up now. It sounded like they were having some trouble of their own."

            "I see." If only the brilliant Phantom Thieves could teleport.

            Then came the dreaded awkward silence. Ann twirled a blond lock around her finger, pretending to take in the glorious sights of the dingy subway station lookalike.

            "Ann-chan?"

            She snapped to attention.

            "Why did you join the Phantom Thieves? Did you know Kurusu-kun before all this?" he asked.

            He wasn't sure if she perked up because she was happy to share or relieved he broke the silence.

            "Long story short? Some shitty teacher went way too far."

            "Wasn't much of a fair grader?" Goro wasn't sure why he feigned ignorance. He could tell from her dark tone alone that something serious had happened.

            Ann shook her head. "It's kind of hard to talk about, but let's just say he's in jail now."

            "I'm sorry."

            Another shake of her head. "The only thing I regret is that Shiho—my best friend—was involved. But for me, though, it turned me into someone so much stronger than the weak girl I used to be. Even without all this." She gestured to her thief outfit.

            "That's...a very admirable way to look at it."

            With a little more vigor, she said, "And that whole thing is how Akira, Ryuji, Morgana, and I started the Phantom Thieves."

            "Oh, so it was only you four at first..."

            "Yep! We wanna make the world a little safer, especially for younger people like us that are taken advantage of all the time. Um, not to sound pessimistic or anything."

            Goro hummed in reflection. Had he had a similar experience at some point? No, he didn't want to know yet. "I'm sure you've helped a lot of people."

            Ann winked. "Yep! We took down some pretty big bad guys."

            "ANN!"

            That sounded like Futaba, accompanied by a horde of clomping footsteps up the escalator.

            Futaba threw her arms around Ann in a rib-cracking hug. Ann squeezed her back with a "Sorry to worry you."

            "Are you alright?" asked Kurusu, looking Goro up and down for any (new) injuries.

            "We're fine now," Ann replied. "Got a little rough back there, though."

            "Who would have thought the Reaper could appear so high up...?" pondered Kitagawa.

            "Luckily, Goro-kun figured out how to summon his persona just in time!"

            "Hold up a sec!" Sakamoto blurted. "Goro-kun?! Uh, what exactly happened down there?"

            Ann rolled her eyes and snapped, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Ryuji! We just had a good talk, that's all." Then, to Goro, "Right, Goro-kun?"

            He made some sort of unintelligible stutter, which only made them look more suspicious.

            "Um, anyway," interrupted Nijima, "You were able to summon Robin Hood, Akechi-kun?"

            "Or what about Loki?" Sakamoto really was a fan of the persona Goro thought resembled a psychedelic zebra.

            "Actually, neither." He enjoyed the surprised expressions on their faces. "Does anyone happen to know if I've mentioned having a third persona?"

            They shook their heads without even having to double-check.

            "Before I went unconscious, I heard a voice and then dreamt of my persona awakening. Loki. When I came to, however, I summoned Ame-no-Uzume before I could even think about it."

            "That might just confirm a theory I had..." Kurusu mused.

            "Hm?" Goro tilted his head, prompting him to elaborate, but the thieves' leader said no more.

            "This hasn't happened to any of you before?" Goro had a feeling the answer was no, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

            "We haven't yet found the reason, but you and Akira seem to be unique in that way," Kitagawa answered.

            "In what way?"

            "Being able to summon more than one persona," Ann supplied.

            _Why me?_ He flicked a glance to Kurusu, who gave him a half-smile. _And why him?_

Did this have something to do with the "game" Igor had mentioned? If all this wasn't some elaborate dream, it was safe to say his time in the Velvet Room hadn't been, either. He'd keep that to himself for the time being.

            "I'll keep that in mind," he said to the Thieves. "If I remember anything related to this, I'll let you know."

            That seemed to satisfy the Phantom Thieves.

            _At lease_ someone _is satisfied,_ Goro thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> 1\. Ame-no-Uzume is a persona in canon, as well, but a minor one. I actually picked her before I knew that while researching tricksters in fiction and mythology.
> 
> 2\. I mentioned this on my Twitter awhile back, but I read about attachment styles and Akechi is so textbook anxious-avoidant that I really wanted to portray this part of him. In this fic, it shows up in the way that he's scared Ann will run away if he's anything less than perfect. We know he puts on a charismatic, "pleasant" facade so that people will love and acknowledge him, which is something this attachment style is known to do.  
> People with the anxious-avoidant style are theorized to have become this way because people have rejected and/or abandoned them over and over in the past, so they end up terrified (and convinced) that anyone they care about will leave them eventually, even on a whim. They fear that once people know their true selves, they'll hate them.  
> This type runs away at even the slightest hint that someone will abandon them again even if the perception is extremely warped (it usually is). Basically, this style is causing the break up they so fear.
> 
> If you're interested, this blog post is extremely informative and a quick read: https://jebkinnison.com/bad-boyfriends-the-book/fearful-avoidant/
> 
>  
> 
> And now for my trash Twitter: https://twitter.com/Xyalin26


	7. Securing the Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A question came unbidden to his lips. 'Does that mean...I killed people for Shido?'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I've had, um, quite the time since last update. I never knew how much craziness could happen in one week, especially unplanned O.O  
> I hope you guys have had a good July so far! :D

*

            "Can't sleep?" asked Kurusu in a whisper after Goro had tossed over on his side for the fifth time in ten minutes.

            No, despite the painkillers and exhausting near-death experience, Goro felt awake as ever. Should he say what was on his mind or tell some lie to wave Kurusu away? Hard decision when he was split between both.

            "I'm afraid not," he replied, choosing neither like the coward he was.

            "Does it still hurt a lot?"

            Confronted directly, Goro hesitated. "No. Takemi-san's pills are top-notch." Why did he say that? Now he'd have to put up with Kurusu's curiosity toward his mental state.

            _"Yes, this oh-so-unbearable pain makes it difficult to sleep,"_ he should have said.

            "I can't sleep, either," Kurusu said, oblivious to Goro's inner dramatization. "Morgana always makes me sleep early, but I'm a night owl sometimes."

            The cat lay on Kurusu's chest again, ear twitching this way and that as he slept like a log. They kept their voices low.

            "I can imagine him bossing you around all day." Goro laughed softly, as did Kurusu.

            "I can't resist, though. I have a weakness for cute cats." He stroked Morgana's furry head with an index finger. Impressed, Goro wondered how close they were for the sharp-tongued cat to let him do that. He doubted Kurusu would touch without permission.

            _If_ I _did that, I'd probably lose my hand._

There was a lull in the conversation, yet different than with the others. He didn't feel any discomfort from Kurusu, only a relaxed ease with the quiet. Even his curiosity toward Goro wasn't too forceful (though it was still felt, nonetheless). Why was it only with Kurusu that he didn't mind the silence? Why did he feel so comfortable where tension would normally have knotted his stomach?

            "Kurusu...how did we meet?"

            The other boy paused for a beat. "That's a romantic question."

            Goro wished Kurusu could see his glare. "Just answer it."

            "That'd have to be at the TV station. We visited for school while the 'Detective Prince' was being interviewed."

            Come to think of it, Goro was actually rather glad it was dark in there. "Oh, really. How did I do?"

            Kurusu snorted. "Your usual. But I think more eyes were on me for _that_ interview."

            As expected, the leader of the Phantom Thieves was bolder in the dark. Goro could almost hear Joker slithering through his voice. For some reason, it brought a rush of sensation to his stomach. Goro pressed on, determined to ignore it.

            "And how exactly was that possible?" he asked, giving nothing of that rush away in his voice.

            "They wanted an audience member's opinion and I happened to be the one they chose. I stuck up for the Phantom Thieves and you were captivated by my charm or something."

            Goro snorted—again, _very_ glad the lights weren't on at that moment. "That sounds more like a fantasy. Something you'd like to share with me, Kurusu?"

            He chuckled. "You don't have to believe me. You went on about, uh, what was it? Thesis and antithesis?"

            _Advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis. Neither contains the truth. Rather, a synthesis of both is needed for true enlightenment._ The words flowed through his mind from some other life.

            "It does, admittedly, sound like something I would say. I'm surprised you remembered such a detail."

            He could practically hear Kurusu give one of his shrugs. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I was curious, so I looked it up."

            "I see," said Goro. "Quite bold of you to support the Phantom Thieves to a detective, on live TV no less, when you're their dear leader."

            "Yeah, well...I have a few reasons. Besides, life's no fun without the risk, right?"

            "Hmph. I'll answer that once I can remember whether taking risks has gone well for me or not."

            "Fair enough."

            Goro wasn't sure about these Phantom Thieves. The man Ann had described, Kamoshida, was truly a loathsome creature the way he preyed on women—high-school girls who wouldn't or couldn't fight back, at that. But to forcibly change someone's heart? To rob them of their will? Should certain people be exempt from the right to free will? Should fellow humans even decide these exemptions, in the first place?

            But Goro relished his new place among the Phantom Thieves. This sense of potential belonging, this sense of taking justice into his own hands. As he'd summoned Loki and Ame-no-Uzume, he had felt that unbridled euphoria, rage hidden unbeknownst to him and released with each strike. Once he got his hands on his own weapon, Goro knew it'd feel even more exhilarating without his persona as a proxy.

            How had he become so twisted? What had happened for him to get like this?

            Igor's words came back to him once more: _"I will give you back all your lost memories. In exchange...kill Akira Kurusu."_

_Ridiculous,_ he thought. _I'm sure I'm many things, but a killer is not one of them._ Even if it was blatantly obvious that Kurusu and the rest were keeping something enormous from him.

            Maybe tomorrow he'd ask Kurusu about this Velvet Room...and why, if Goro's intuitive leap was correct, he hadn't admitted to knowing about it before.

 

***

 

            While the Phantom Thieves scattered themselves about the table and couch in their attic hideout, Goro and his fresh injuries were confined to the bed. Ann, as it turned out, had escaped with a bit less wear and tear, as she had been fighting fit before encountering the Reaper.

            "Are you feeling better today, Goro-kun?" she asked upon arriving.

            He smiled a real smile, hating himself for becoming addicted to this warmth. "Much better, Ann-chan, thank you." Not exactly the truth, except for in that very moment.

            The others ignored him or greeted him with polite distance.

            _These were my friends? Don't make me laugh._

When Okumura came near, he greeted her with a chipper, "Good morning, Okumura-san," because she still refused to speak around him.

            "Good morning, Akechi-kun..." was her courteous response.

            Hm...

            After everyone was settled, Joker took the floor.

            "Good thing we started on Shido's palace early because we still haven't secured a route and we need to show Akechi the ropes in an actual palace."

            Palace?

            "Are you okay to go today, Akechi-kun?" asked Nijima. "You'll be on standby watching us and we'll head to a safe room the moment you need rest."

            It had been a few days since the encounter in Mementos. An excruciatingly boring few days, especially since Kurusu always had somewhere to be, and all Goro could do was read books as he rested, or eat tersely-given curry. And apparently, Goro was to work off his living expenses in the cafe once he recovered—Sakura's orders.

            He'd probably have to take them up on their safe room offer at some point, whatever that was. Otherwise, as long as he didn't exert himself too much, he could accompany them.

            "Fine by me," Goro replied pleasantly.

            Nijima gave him a small, encouraging smile. Well, there was a surprise.

            Kurusu went over some persona-related details and they were set to go. Well, mostly.

            He ended with a question to Okumura, "Haru, you have what we got custom from Iwai?"

            "Yes, it wasn't too hard getting familiar with it, so I'm ready if we need it," she said.

            Kurusu explained to Goro, "Haru is our best shooter. Pretty good with an axe, too."

            Oh great, one of the two who hated him. With a swallow, he replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

            "Wait a sec," Futaba interrupted. "How are we planning on getting the Detective Prince over to the Diet Building?"

            Somehow it was grating to have _her_ calling him that.

            One step ahead, Kurusu pulled out a navy hoodie from his drawer and a flu mask from a pack on his desk.

            "Kinda sketchy, but it should do the job," Ann remarked after a quick appraisal of Goro's new look.

            "If that's settled, then Phantom Thieves, move out!" Morgana commanded.

            The trip to the Diet Building took about 20 minutes by train, a straight shot from the Tokyu-Den-entoshi Line. Except for the heart-stopping double take from one woman on the train, no one paid Goro a second glance. He was a far cry from the polished, fresh-faced Detective Prince he'd seen on TV.

            "Hey, Akira," said Sakamoto in the closest thing he had to a socially acceptable volume, "remember when you button-mashed Morgana?"

            Goro heard a sullen meow and stopped listening after that until they reached their destination.

            Since no one was around, they didn't have to loiter like the suspicious teenagers they were. Kurusu accessed the same app Goro had seen on the phone in his memories and uttered three things: Masayoshi Shido, Diet Building, a ship.

            And the world warped around them just as it did in Mementos.

 

***

 

            _What the hell is this...?_

If Goro had been facing the Diet Building, it would have seemed as though nothing had changed. What he faced, however, was...surreal. The ground below moved, now the deck of a gigantic cruiser in an endless sea washed with the red and navy of the sky. The Tokyo buildings that had once towered above him were mostly submerged, some carelessly—or rather, ruthlessly—mowed down by the ship's hull.

            "C-can someone explain this to me?" The words tumbled out of Goro's mouth as he stared, transfixed at the scene before him.

            This time, it was Okumura who spoke. "A person's palace exists inside their mind and represents their distorted desires. Masayoshi Shido sees the Diet Building as his ship because he wants to 'steer' our country."

            Kurusu and Ann had explained the basics awhile back, so he followed without need for elaboration. Still, seeing it for himself...he hadn't expected it to appear so _real_.

            " _This_ is how Shido views Japan, and this is why we _must_ change his heart," Okumura continued, resolve hardening her high, delicate voice.

            "Yes, he must be stopped," Goro said, unable to tear his gaze away from the carnage.

            Sensing all eyes on him once more, he suppressed a shiver and turned to the Thieves with a nonchalant, "Shall we go?"

            Despite all the group's antics in the real world, Goro begrudgingly admired their smooth teamwork and practiced efficiency with which they cleared out their enemies.

            But it aggravated him to be the invalid newbie on standby the whole time!

            "The nervous energy you exude is hampering my focus," said Kitagawa, also on standby after taking a makajama to the head.

            Goro kept his tone light. "It's a good thing that you're on standby then, so you don't _need_ to focus."

            "I do not appreciate that comment, whoever you are."

            Goro didn't even suppress the urge to roll his eyes back into his head.

            Thank God for Nijima, also on standby. "Sorry, Yusuke, I'm still looking for the relax capsule..."

            Unfortunately, it didn't cure Kitagawa of his personality.

            "Are you doing alright, Crow? Is everything making sense?" Nijima asked.

            "So far so good. I hate to be so useless over here, though."

            Despite his mild tone, Nijima fixed him with an almost intense gaze. That is, she definitely made sure he kept eye contact.

            "Crow—Akechi-kun—I know it was a passing comment, but I want to be sure you understand me." Sensing his discomfort and her own over-assertion, Nijima backed off a little. "We never think of each other in terms of usefulness."

            "As you said, Nijima-san, it was only a passing comment—"

            "And in spite of everything that happened between us, you are a Phantom Thief now. One of us."

            That earned her a derisive laugh. In a tone of mocking curiosity, he asked, "I'm one of you, am I? Please. None of you even trust me."

            "That's not true—"

            "Then why hide pieces of my past? Why have your little 'chat breaks' then? And when I'm right there in the room, no less? And don't think I missed the way most of you treat me like I'll sneeze the plague onto you at any given moment."

            Nijima squeezed her eyes shut and sighed before responding. "I know how it looks, Akechi-kun, but...things are delicate right now."

            Delicate. There was that convenient word again.

            "To be honest, we don't know exactly how to...how to deal with your situation. Of course we want to give you the whole story, but everything's so tangled up that we don't want to mess it up."

            "I understand what you're saying," Goro began diplomatically because he was a good Japanese boy, "but do you expect me to accept that reasoning?"

            Nijima wavered and, in her scarlet eyes, Goro could see the very conflict and sadness she had aimed to express to him. But he said nothing to comfort her.

            She went on, "I know it sounds like an excuse, but I don't know what else to say. It really _is_ complicated, so maybe we can compromise? You can ask me a question and if it's simple enough, I'll try to answer it to the best of my abilities."

            Goro sensed that, despite her accidental condescension at times and despite the way she felt she had the right to hold some of his memories under lock and key, she was sincerely trying her best. Somehow it was clear as day that there wasn't a drop of malice in Nijima. So...he decided not to hold it against her just this once.

            "I think I'll accept that offer." What other choice did he have, anyway?

            Now, what to ask?

            Well, there was still that one thing... Although, if he were being honest with himself, this wasn't something he wanted to know quite yet. Either way, he made sure none of this reluctance showed in his features.

            "Tell me about the time I went completely ballistic, Nijima-san."

            His purpose: drawing out a knee-jerk reaction. Ann had said he'd snapped, but that could mean a number of things. Ergo, he'd amped up the description to "going ballistic," which is about as extreme as someone could snap, he supposed. He prayed that Nijima would give him a blank look, without any idea what he was referring to. If not, then the next best thing is that maybe she would need a moment to remember what he was talking about, meaning it wouldn't be fresh in her memory.

            But no. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she winced.

            "That's—well—what have you already heard and I'll fill in the gaps?" she said, tone rising into a question.

            "So that your stories can match up?"

            "No. It's one of those...delicate topics I was telling you about."

            This wasn't good timing on his part. He'd get the details eventually, but not there.

            Tapping into his famous "charisma" (according to the talk show hosts), he said, "If it's difficult to talk about, I understand, Nijima-san. You can tell me when you decide it's best. I trust your judgment."

            If he wanted to know sooner, he'd ask Ann—or get it out of Sakamoto, the blabbermouth.

            Nijima exhaled in relief. "I appreciate your understanding, Akechi-kun."

            With Nijima eager to move on from that particular conversation, they exchanged pleasantries along the way to the next battle, where she was taken off standby.

            "You weren't being honest with Queen," said Kitagawa to him, once again keeping him company on standby.

            Goro should have hovered near Sakamoto and Morgana instead. "I think that out of everyone, you're the most determined to suspect me."

            "Not the most, no."

            "...That aside, why do you think I wasn't being honest with Ni—with Queen?"

            "The look in your eyes is the same as before."

            Goro could tell that was the most he would get out of Kitagawa.

            "Heh. That's certainly a strange thing to say to someone, Fox."

            "Only because people tend to look without really seeing. To me, this is rather obvious."

            "I see." Because Goro was at a loss with him.

            "No, not yet. But potentially one day soon," Kitagawa mused.

            Goro drifted over to Sakamoto and Morgana. According to the latter, the treasure wasn't too far now. Meanwhile, Goro suggested that Kurusu put Kitagawa back into battle and was met with approval.

            _Ah, small victories..._

The chatter of the group died down as they passed through the engine room, and he certainly knew why. It was cold, dank, and gave off the worst feeling. A shudder ran through him. What was it about this place?

            It could have been his imagination, but he swore the whole group ran a tad faster than their usual across the long space and up the clanking stairs.

            "Where are we...?" asked Yusuke when they pushed open the exit.

            Futaba was on the task, "It looks like we've come out on the side deck. We should be able to secure a route from here."

            "Welp, let's head over and get to usin' those letters then," said Sakamoto.

            Letters?

            As they made their way to the central passage of the ship, Ann said, "We had to beat up some people to get letters of recommendation. There's no other way to get to Shido's treasure. Too bad you had to miss Skull and Queen's dinner date."

            Sakamoto sighed. "And I was lookin' forward to eating that fancy stuff, too."

            "You were quite the mismatched couple," Kitagawa commented.

            "Yeah, could you even read the menu, Skull?" jibed Morgana.

            "Dude, you try reading French!"

            Goro found himself laughing along with the others at their back and forth. Rather than annoying and counterproductive, their squabbling was actually entertaining.

            "Oh, that's right, Crow never got an introduction to Ann Windsor," said Futaba with a snicker. "Descendant of British royalty." She swept her hand in a flourish, holding it against her front as she bowed like an old English butler.

            "I still can't believe he bought that," said Nijima. She sounded almost disappointed in the man.

            "Yeah, Panther's shitty acting _plus_ a shitty English accent is like double gullible," said Sakamoto with a wide grin.

            "Hey, I'd like to see you do better, Skull!" Ann retorted.

            "Maybe he can practice on Shido," said Futaba, "'Cause the door to his treasure is straight ahead."

            So soon?

            The Phantom Thieves slowed their pace as they made their way along the red carpet of the central passage. A four-paneled gold door adorned with a lion each stood at the end. The letters above it said "REPRESENTATIVES CHAMBER." Gold on a red plaque the width of the door to match the decorum.

            "...All right, is that all of them?" Morgana asked, and Goro assumed he was referring to the hard-won letters of recommendation.

            "Open sesame!" said Futaba.

            The doors swung back into a two-entrance split. Goro let out a breath—only an elevator lay ahead.

            "The time's finally come," said Okumura.

            "Yeah," Nijima replied, and he could see her steeling herself.

            They approached the elevator without any more dallying. Kurusu pressed the up button and said, "Looks like this leads to the Assembly Hall."

            They rode in silence, but a very different one from the usual silence found in elevators. Goro thought the tension would stifle him. He even took a deep breath once the elevator doors opened to the large hall. As everyone took a couple tentative steps forward, Goro caught Kurusu pulling Okumura aside.

            "You can't see him, right?" he murmured.

            See who? Shido?

            "N-No, where is he?" asked Okumura, inconspicuously angling her head a few ways, eyes darting around the room.

            "I see him through Third Eye on that balcony behind the right side of the daruma curtain. Can you make your way over to the left without him catching you?"

            "On it, Joker," said Okumura with an affirmative nod.

            She ducked down behind the last row of wooden benches that all faced a humongous daruma head imprinted on a curtain at the back of the hall, just as Kurusu had said. She stealthily crouched her way along the edge of the room, her end goal being the left corner, Goro assumed.

            "He's here, everyone, get ready," Kurusu told the group in a low voice.

            Goro snapped his head front, his eye immediately drawn to the strange illustrious fog about the size of his head floating above the dais before the daruma curtain. It shimmered in a rainbow of colors with a bright white light at its core. Was this the treasure they were to steal? But if so, what was the point of merely securing a route and then leaving, as Kurusu had planned?

            An intruder interrupted his pondering.

            "Back for more?"

            The voice ahead was far too familiar. It raised goosebumps not only on his arms, but on his face, down his back...

            When the figure came out from behind the curtain and leapt down off the balcony, Goro froze in his tracks.

            "Wh-what exactly are you supposed to be?" he asked, and it came out barely above a whisper.

            Striding toward the Phantom Thieves was the spitting image of himself, appearance immaculate and cold.

            The Goro Akechi replica didn't seem to hear him and simply stared with his chilling lifeless eyes straight into the original. "I see you're helping these rats, are you? A puppet who's switched its allegiance is still a puppet nonetheless."

            Goro had no idea what this thing was supposed to be, but pure intuition told him that now was the time to ask if he wanted to know the truth. Even if it came from a clone pointing a pistol at him.

            His replica chuckled as he took aim. "I apologize for not finishing the job last time. Worthless tools should be properly disposed of, after all—"

            The sound of gunshot and the other Goro's body gave a sudden jolt. Then, two more gunshots collided into him, just to finish the job. The replica's eyes widened in shock, mouth hanging open before he feel to his knees.

            "C-captain..." he rasped. "I failed you."

            His eyes rolled up and he fell face-first to the floor.

            Haru Okumura stood in the left corner with a smoking gun.

            But Goro couldn't tear his gaze from his other. He would never forget the haunting, overwhelmingly disturbing sensation of basically watching his own death.

            "He's not real," said Kurusu.

            "I figured that much out for myself, thank you," Goro replied tightly when he could use his voice again, teetering on the edge of another outburst.

            The pressure built in his head and he wanted to scream and tear something apart in one visceral move. He curled his hands into fists, squeezing until his fingernails bit into his palms.

            Kurusu was patient and responded calmly, "That was Shido's cognition of you. That's how he viewed you."

            Goro crossed his arms, happy for a straight answer despite the strangeness of it all.

            "What did he see me as—his personal hitman? An enemy of the Phantom Thieves?"

            "Both."

            The rest of the group stared at Kurusu, as if he were revealing far more to Goro than they'd expected.

            "Joker..." Nijima began, but Kurusu cut her off.

            "To gain Shido's trust, you pretended to be on his side. You did so well that it was risky for Shido to keep you alive. Which brings us to Cognitive Akechi."

            Goro fingered his chin. "It does feel accurate..." Somehow, it truly did. But the nagging sensation that something was missing refused to go away no matter how many direct answers Kurusu gave.

            _Why would I pretend to be on his side? For a case against him?_

A question came unbidden to his lips. "Does that mean...I killed people for Shido?"

            As soon as the Thieves' discomfort jumped tenfold, the worst was confirmed. No one would meet his gaze. Even Sakamoto was morose, a look Goro didn't think was possible on him.

            "Crow..." He had never imagined, either, that he would hear such sympathy from Morgana, who usually directed orders, suspicion, or snarky comments his way.

            "You..." Suddenly, Joker was gone and in his place the Kurusu with the gentle voice who watched and waited to lend a helping hand when the time was right. "You took out a couple of people for Shido, partners he wanted out of the picture. They did bad things to a lot of people."

            The tearing in his mind created turmoil throughout his whole body, nauseating him and aggravating his wounds to searing agony. The tearing caused by conflict between two ideals that he was sure he had struggled with endlessly before his memory loss.

            "I see," Goro replied lightly. "Good riddance, then."

            And he threw up on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's weird? Several hours after writing this chapter in my notebook, I threw up for the first time in like a year O.O Um...hashtag Goro kin?  
> *sobs* I was betrayed by the tantanmen...! But I think it's because I woke up in the middle of the night before I could properly digest and...never mind.  
> Carrying on...!
> 
> Akechi ended up being his bitter, cynical self even without his memories! Forgot if I said this, but I agree with the very Japanese philosophy that, even if you can't remember something, it's still inside of you, and it has still made a lasting impact on you. I think everything from his past and how it's affected him is still all there locked inside of him. I also think he naturally has this darker bent to his personality. Ahh...a winning combination.
> 
> Random tidbit: Normally, when I write a male perspective, I'm very conscious about the way most of them don't think of color in detailed shades (so I say blue rather than sky blue, cerulean, azure, whatever), but Akechi strikes me as someone who would label colors with shades—like Makoto's eyes being scarlet instead of red.  
> I also feel like he's the type to say "ergo."
> 
> I hope you guys don't feel like I'm leaving out anyone! Yusuke and Haru don't talk much at the moment, but they'll each get their slice of plot. What type of slice shall this be? Stay tuned~~


	8. Bonding through Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now it's our turn to blackmail you!" said Futaba. "Mweheheh!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is more of a fluffy bridge chapter with PT interactions and discussing their plans somewhere cool~  
> The next chapter has a lot more *French accent* actiON~
> 
> wagashi=traditional Japanese sweets yum yum oishiii my favorite type of sweets!
> 
> Oh, before I forget: gaijin=a sort of rude way of describing a foreigner.  
> And yes, they encounter a very stereotypical American tourist, but I'm not saying all tourists are that way! It's just comical for poor Akechi teheh  
> (stop here if you don't want to read my ramblings)  
> When I say foreigners in general, I say gaiKOKUjin, but if I'm talking about foreigners coming to Japan, I usually say gaijin because, well, they do gaijin things. Pretty much everyone says it—I only have one friend who says to say "gaikokujin." Even a salesgirl in Shibuya 109 used the word gaijin with me because she thought I wouldn't understand >.> I've met nice salespeople in 109 but there were quite a few pushy or done with gaijin types, too. In Harajuku, sooo many of them didn't even try to be polite—I think they were so done with tourists hahaha  
> On the other hand, the Harajuku Starbucks (I hate Starbucks but it's worth the visit!) is one of the only places where the staff used actual keigo with me (higher than usual polite language). You never know...

*

            After emptying out the contents of his stomach in the treasure room (curry, curry, and more curry), Goro was helped to the closest safe room. Self-loathing twisted his stomach further—enough to vomit again if there was anything left.

            _All I am is a liability. It's only a matter of time before they get rid of me._

Just when his throat had finally healed, the retching had scraped it raw. It already hurt doing nothing, so speaking set the pain aflame.

            "All of you, just leave me and go," he said, even hoarser than when he'd woken up that first day in Kurusu's room. "I don't know who I was before, but I'm no longer useful to you."

            _I'll have to take Shido on my own._

Ann, who'd told him to stop saying this sort of thing, made a sound of protest, but it was Sakamoto who answered first.

            "Man, you gotta lighten up."

            All Goro could do was take his head from his hands and look up dumbly at Sakamoto, who sat down at the chair diagonal from him.

            "You're a part of the team," he continued. "Besides, all of us get hurt all the time. Panther would prolly beat me up if I suggested leaving _her_ behind. Queen would skip that and just kill me—"

            "Exactly," Ann chimed while Nijima crossed her arms and did her best to hide a small smile.

            "Anyway, uh, you see what I'm sayin'?"

            "I think so," said Goro. "But I'm not a Phantom Thief. I'm a tagalong who blackmailed you to let me join."

            Okumura, who sat at the chair opposite him with perfect reserved poise, responded. It was an unsettling yet pleasant surprise every time she did.

            "That may be true," she said. "But you have still made your place in our team, Crow. It wouldn't be right to leave you, especially in this state. We couldn't kick you out of the team, either."

            _"Especially in this state."_ He was very conscious of his rank breath and sweat that had drenched him from a sudden heat wave before throwing up. The thick fabric he wore covering his whole body only made him feel like he was suffocating.

            "It'll cost you to make decisions based on pity," Goro said.

            "Dude, were you even listening?" Sakamoto again. "No matter how much of a pain in the ass you are, you're a Phantom Thief."

            "...Thank you?"

            Sakamoto grinned like he'd given him a real compliment.

            _They say that now..._ he thought, but couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips against his will.

            But then he remembered what he'd just learned about himself, and the smile was gone. "Have any of you ever...ever..." It was so hard to say, and not just because his throat was on fire, "killed anyone? Any of your targets?"

            That wall of isolation rose again as they glanced at each other with discomfort—pity, even, for the killer in their midst. That told him all he needed to know.         

            "So you still accept me even though I'm a murderer?"

            The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow as he waited for one of them— _any_ of them—to speak."

            "Noir? Oracle?" Goro prodded.

            "W-Why them specifically?" asked Morgana with that ever-present suspicious tone.

            Okumura's lips tightened and she bent her head toward her hands clenched in her lap. Futaba, who had been lying stomach-down on the bed with her laptop, typing away and kicking her legs contentedly, halted all movement like a wind-up doll coming to the end of her song.

            Everyone else locked him in place with piercing gazes. So this had hit a much more tender nerve than expected.

            "I was told that Noir and Oracle were the two people I wouldn't be able to patch things up with for whatever reason. I believe they should be the ones to decide whether I stay."

            If Goro hadn't seen Futaba's initial reaction, he would have believed her utterly casual answer. "Meh, let's keep him," she said. "I'm already used to having him around, anyway."

            Her eyes hadn't left the screen of her laptop. Okumura's, however, bore into his soul with their intensity—perhaps not angry, but resolved. Scrutinizing.

            "I would like to do what is best for the Phantom Thieves," she said, at last. "Crow is a strong asset to our team. I hope we can trust him this time."

            Goro swallowed (too painful!), clearing his throat before he was able to say, "I appreciate the vote of confidence. I assure you, I won't let you down."

            After a pause, Kurusu said, "That's that, then. Crow, are you feeling alright now?"

            If anything, all this had twisted his stomach up even worse, so he replied, "Never felt better!"

            Morgana let out a real cat yowl this time. "Then, all that's left is the calling card so we can nab the treasure!"

            The Phantom Thieves gave a cheer and headed back for the real world.

 

***

 

            "So...shouldn't we have, like, a pre-calling card dinner or something?" asked Ann when they reached the train station by the Diet Building. They stood huddled near the line in front of the train tracks as more and more people started queuing behind them.

            Goro remembered mention of hot pot parties back in Mementos and had a feeling she was one of those people who always found an excuse to celebrate or have "special dinners."

            "I'm on-board, Lady Ann!" said Morgana, popping his head up from Kurusu's backpack.

            "How's the money looking, Akira?" asked Sakamoto, hands clasped behind his head.

            "Well..." said Kurusu, "I think we could have a splurge or two. No buffet, though."

            "Aw..." That was Ann.

            If he'd had even a semblance of an appetite, Goro would have suggested they treat themselves to some sushi. Alas, another night...

            He heard Futaba whisper to Kurusu, "Hey, let's go somewhere that has spicy takoyaki and make Akechi eat it again." Kurusu snorted a laugh at that. Goro glared at him, but he wasn't even looking. Figured.

            "There's a very artful bar in Ginza I've been wanting to try," said Okumura. "When you walk in, it's almost like you've stepped into old England or France. Although, to be honest, I wanted to go there mainly to taste their coffee."

            Coffee, like food, was a handy bonding topic.

            With his most dazzling smile, Goro asked, "You love coffee, too, Okumura-san?"

            Still that cool wall of reserve. There was nothing more frustrating than turning on maximum charm and still failing to defrost the person.

            "Yes, I've been studying it recently," she replied briefly.

            "Haru's going to open her own coffee shop after college!" said Futaba.

            "That's amazing, Okumura-san. I wish you the best of luck."

            Still nothing. Did she truly hate him?

            "Thank you, Akechi-kun."

            "If you don't mind me asking," because he really was curious, "how did you become so interested in coffee-making?" And where would she get the funds to start such a venture?

            There was a silence that was far too uneasy for a conversation about coffee. Ugh, he was tired of this. Why was talking to these people like trying to navigate a minefield?

            "My family has been in the food industry since my grandfather opened our restaurant."

            "I see," said Goro with another TV smile. "Your family must be proud of you."

            The look on Okumura's face jarred with what he'd said to the point where he wondered if a different sentence had come out of his mouth.

            Lips tightened and eyes blazing in what appeared to be contained fury, Okumura stared intently at the train coming in. The rest of the group wore extremely uncomfortable expressions, shifting nervously in place.

            That could only mean...was her family gone? Was she like Goro? He felt an immediate kinship with Okumura at that, though she was determined not to reciprocate that sentiment. She had to have known his situation, hadn't she? Yet she was obstinately shutting him out.

            They had to be more or less silent on the train, but Goro made up his mind to extend the olive branch sometime soon, apologizing for the blackmail, lack of tact, etc.

            "Ginza here we come!" Sakamoto cheered before boarding.

            Kurusu smirked at Goro. "He's just excited because he's too self-conscious to go to girly places like that without any girls."

            "H-Hey, man, maybe I just wanna meet some foreign girls!" Sakamoto shot back before he had to shut up. "Ever thought of that?"

            "Aren't there more of them in Harajuku?" Ann, the closest they had to a foreign girl, pointed out.

            "Whateeever," Sakamoto muttered in reply.

            Thankfully, they had gotten on the train first so they could take their seats before the other passengers poured in after them. It wasn't quite like sardines this time, but pretty close. Kurusu motioned with a tilt of his head for Goro to sit next to him while the others were occupied with finding their own seating.

            So Goro sat next to him. And so did someone about twice Kurusu's size. A larger blond gaijin in stereotypical tourist clothes huffed his way to his other side, pressing Goro's leg and bottom against both his own and into Kurusu's. Goro found himself stiff, muscles locked in place at such close contact.

            "What's wrong?" whispered Kurusu.

            Goro tried for a casual, "Nothing," but all he could do was swallow and shake his head.

            Kurusu might have figured it out because he snorted and the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. Goro was very happy when they transferred to a line with trains almost empty of people.

            Once he'd gotten over the initial adrenaline surge, Goro's exhaustion hit him all at once. The smooth rocking of the train and the da-dun da-dun of its wheels lulled him to sleep. Though Goro willed his drooping eyelids to open, he inevitably drifted off to sleep.

            And woke up five minutes later with his head on Kurusu's shoulder while Ann and Sakamoto snickered at him, and Futaba snapped a photo.

            Goro bolted up with a "S-Sorry! I guess I was more tired than I thought." He let out a rush of nervous laughter.

            _People fall asleep on peoples' shoulders on the train all the time,_ he knew. He'd even seen a few instances on that last ride. _That's how public transportation_ is, he wanted to point out to his snickering teammates.

            Why couldn't his head have flopped on the stranger's shoulder next to him? Even the sweaty blond man from the last train would have been better than this! Still embarrassing in front of Kurusu's friends, but at least Futaba wouldn't have that incriminating picture of him.

            Speaking of which:

            "Now it's our turn to blackmail _you_!" said Futaba. "Mweheheh!"

            With a flat look, Goro responded, "I don't think that'll do you much good when I don't even remember what leverage you have on me."

            "Guess I'll just upload it to your fan sites, then!" she replied cheerfully.

            "Hey, good thinking, Futaba!" said Sakamoto with a shit-eating grin.

            With a sigh, Goro asked in a monotone, "So what do you want me to do?"

            Futaba drummed her fingertips together like the maniacal villain she was.   

            "Hey, Inari!" Kitagawa blinked away from his window-gazing daydreams. "We're blackmailing Akechi—any requests? Everyone gets one!"

            Goro attempted to protest, "Wait a second—"

            "No talking, victim!" Futaba interrupted.

            Kitagawa glanced up in thought, fingering his chin. After a baritone hum of consideration, "I could use some new paints...but the wagashi shop I passed the other day _did_ have some delectable sweets..."

            "Skip!" Futaba pointed to Ann. "Your turn!"

            "Hm..." And he could tell she was looking forward to it. Traitor. "Math homework. For the rest of the year!"

            _Am I even good at math? Probably._

Nijima just shook her head and passed on her turn.

            "You think we could make him work in the cafe in a chicken suit the whole time?" pondered Sakamoto.

            Nijima sighed. At least there was _someone_ Goro could trust around here.

            " _What?_ " Sakamoto shot back. "It's the first thing that popped to mind!"

            "Of course _your_ weird mind would come up with something like that," jibed Morgana.

            "Oh yeah? What's _your_ request?"

            Morgana purred in contentment. "I have simple needs. All I require is a feast of fatty tuna."

            "Pfft. You already get that from this guy." Sakamoto punched Kurusu on the shoulder.

            "Can I have my turn back?" Kitagawa asked patiently.

            "Not yet," replied Moderator Futaba, "Haru still hasn't gone!"

            "You can make him drink that elephant dung coffee," Kurusu suggested.

            Goro shot him a look. Did that sort of thing even exist?

            "I suppose it does sound unappealing when you put it that way," said Okumura.

            Even more than the strange bloodlust that came out in her during battle, this told Goro that she was far more odd than she appeared.

            With a smile that rang false, she remarked, "I pass on my turn, as well. Anything I want from Akechi-kun would be something he can't give anyway."

            "I'll take my turn again," Kitagawa said before an awkward tension could settle. "I've decided on a set of new paints. It would be wrong for an artist to choose temporary hunger and delicious wagashi over his craft, after all."

            "And where am I supposed to get all this money?" Goro asked, playing along for the hell of it and, strangely, enjoying himself. Except for Okumura, they were finally being a little more open with him, even considering the conversation.

            Kurusu clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, we won't expect anything until you remember how to get into your bank account."

            "Gee, thanks."

            They were laughing at his expense, so why did he want to laugh with them? Why did they feel a little more like friends even though they were talking about blackmailing him?

            "Hey, leader, you're up!" said Futaba.

            _By all means, shout a little louder while you're at it._ At least she didn't call him Joker.

            "I second the chicken suit, I guess," Kurusu replied, which was yet more evidence that he'd left his Phantom Thief personality back in the Metaverse.

            Perhaps Kurusu was waiting until they were alone in the attic that night so he could whisper the demand in his ear—

            Wait. Why did that bizarre scene come to mind, anyway? Goro pushed—shoved—it away and focused on rolling his eyes at Kurusu's comment.

            "I'm glad that I can at least rely on Nijima-san," he remarked. "The rest of you are terrible people."

            "We know!" Futaba replied gleefully.

            So that served as their train ride entertainment, as they now pulled into the Ginza station.

            Goro knew it was the high-end district of Tokyo with a plethora of cafés, European designer stores, and wide streets to match—a rarity in this city. He knew all this, and yet he couldn't picture it for the life of him. He wondered how often he'd visited the place, if ever.

            The area had a futuristic look about it at night, as the neon signs and endless bright white lamps sandwiched the street as far as the eye could see. The night sky was a pitch black abyss, as if Ginza was its own isolated territory in space. It was nothing like the other metropolitan areas they'd passed on the way, with their narrow alleys and twists and turns.

            The bar Okumura had suggested was called The Iron Fairies, hidden away in the already innocuous Cheers! building. If Goro had fashioned Ginza to be another world, he was in for a surprise at this bar.

            For starters, it could not be more different from the Cheers! exterior. It was as if someone had breathed life into a rococo portrait, save for a few finely-dressed female patrons who sat on their own plush chairs around a low table, and a couple foreigners at the bar. Keys and butterflies hung from the ceiling, shining from the coppery glow of the place. Stone fairy figurines sat blithely on the wooden shelves around corked vials of pink "fairy dust." Yes, this did seem to suit Okumura, with her curled hair and dainty mannerisms.

            As they chose their own low table in the very back, Okumura remarked, "I thought this would be a good place to talk. Aside from the coffee, the food is also supposed to be very good, too. I haven't been able to come until now, though." She gave a teensy smile of self-indulgence.

            Wide-eyed as she took in the room, Ann replied, "Great find, Haru!"

            She tucked a curl shyly behind her ear. "One of my hobbies is looking for hidden gems here in Tokyo, especially when they have good coffee."

            "I have to admit, we probably shouldn't be here," Nijima said, "But it really is beautiful." She stared transfixed at the decor before snapping back to herself with the comment, "No underage drinking, everyone."

            "Yeah, yeah, we know, Prez," said Sakamoto with a lazy wave of his hand. The way he slouched in his chair was a direct contrast to Nijima's pert posture.

            They ended up ordering a round of "artisan" coffee and sandwiches, except Sakamoto, who ordered what was essentially fruit juice.

            "Really, Ryuji?" said Ann when the waitress had moved on.

            "What's the problem? I don't wanna pay that much for something I don't even like!"

            "Classic Ryuji," said Futaba.

            " _Anyway_..."

            "Isn't sushi better than sandwiches?" Morgana grumbled.

            "Sorry, Morgana, we need somewhere quiet and hard to find," said Kurusu, giving him a small head pat. "We'll go tomorrow."

            "Are we not going after Shido tomorrow?" Goro asked, skipping to the point already.

            "Not quite yet," said Kurusu.

            He explained the gist of the calling card and Sakamoto pulled up an example of one to someone named Junya Kaneshiro on his phone.

            "You keep a picture of it on your phone?!" Ann managed to keep it to a whisper.

            Sakamoto rolled his eyes. "They were all over Shibuya. If anything, this is like reverse-psychiatry."

            Nijima massaged her temples and Goro laughed because otherwise he would cry.

            " _Anyway_..." Ann echoed.

            So far, Goro understood the calling card concept perfectly well. He contained how exciting he found it all. The photo looked to be the very epitome of a stylish gentleman thief's announcement.

            "The design is flawless," Goro commented.

            "Thank you," said Kitagawa with a small but proud smile. "You seem to have a good eye."

            "There's our humble Inari," said Futaba, guzzling her coffee like she was a salaryman with late night booze.

            "I have a few more questions," said Goro, steering the conversation back on track yet again. "First, when are we sending this calling card?"

            Kurusu considered it for a moment. "We still need more time, more training. You still can't summon Robin Hood, can you?"

            "Not yet." He hated to admit it. "But I do have Loki and Ame-no-Uzume."           

            "Hm...Guess we'll take a day at a time. We'll try another trip to Mementos—all together this time."

            "And another thing," Goro began, thinking back to his cognitive double, who'd said, "Back for more?" and "I apologize for not finishing the job last time." He continued, "Are you sure cognitions can't come back? It sounded like the cognition and Shido worked together in battle last time. He talked about not finishing the job."

            "R-Right..." said Nijima.

            "That other Akechi won't come back," stated Morgana. "Shido knows you're not around to support him anymore. The cognition was a stray in his subconscious, allowed to live out its existence to the end, but because you're no longer around, it can't come back to life."

            Something still wasn't sitting right with him. He couldn't put his finger on it, so he had no choice but to let it go.

            Just like everything else Kurusu and friends were feeding him.

            Now the only noise at the table was the sound of ceramic on wood, the sipping of coffee and biting of toasted bread.

            "Well," began Goro, "I'm mostly healed up and it's been a few days."

            The others put down their food and drink and regarded him as he paused.

            "I was wondering what I would be doing from here on out," he elaborated.

            "Could you be a little more specific?" asked Kurusu, not unkindly.

            "Shouldn't I return home and consult a doctor there? And shouldn't I inform my colleagues of my situation? Why am I still shuttling between your attic and the Metaverse?"

            "You have to stay hidden for now," said Kurusu.

            "Please," Goro said, "regale me with the reasons you wish to keep me prisoner in your attic."

            Had it been only Kurusu there, he would have added with a sly smile, "Unless you were planning to use me for something else aside from hunting Shido...?" just to see his reaction.

            "Here's the deal." Kurusu exhaled before diving right into it. "Shido wants your head right now and he'll try to get it by any means necessary.

"I'm not sure how much you've seen on the news, but he's running for prime minister and has friends in powerful places. He knows where you live and he has the police on his side, for a start."

            How convenient.

            Kurusu went on, "That cognitive Akechi was sent to dispose of you before us. He didn't know we were working together, though."

            Goro could have sworn the cognition had something to contradict this explanation—just one thing—but he couldn't recall it for the life of him.

            "All I can do is trust you," he responded airily.

            "Akechi..."

            "Let's move on. We discussed all we needed to, yes?"

            Kurusu looked like he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it and sipped his coffee.

            "For now, I guess," was all he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Akechi's really good at saying all the wrong things! Well, it's not his fault that he can't remember murdering people's parents...  
> SO!  
> Random notes:
> 
> 1\. The Iron Fairies is a real bar in Ginza! Sobbb I just discovered it so I never got a chance to go when I actually lived near Ginza... tbh It was so hard to find a full menu so I don't know if they have coffee and the like, though they had coffee and tea at a traditional-rock hybrid bar I went to in Japan. I've never been to a bar in my own country, however ^^;  
> But jeez, I should be getting paid for advertising them!
> 
> 2\. The US is suuuper strict about underage drinking, making sure to check IDs. Basically, you can go off to fight in war at 18 but a drink before 21? OUT OF THE QUESTION! In Japan, they don't really check ID much, so as long as you can see above the counter, you're good!
> 
> 3\. I have had sooo many people fall asleep on my shoulder. For a country that respects personal space and leaving people alone, this seems very contradictory XD
> 
> 4\. So in Japan, depending on the place, a group of people will all tend to get the same thing even if they don't particularly like it ^^; In Persona 3, if you get a different type of ramen, then Yukari will kinda give you a weird look and say "okay...". Ann is making fun of Ryuji, but he cares less because 1. it's Ryuji 2. they're all pretty much best friends. I feel like Ryuji would order the same thing if he were with a group of coworkers or others he didn't know quite as well.  
> There's a term in Japan called "KY" (kuuki yomenai) for people who don't read the room (as Ann says) and go along with expected social behavior  
> Basically if you do your own thing when you're with a group, you're KY lol  
> Yusuke would be a good example of a KY character—like when the PT were sneaking around Sojiro's house in the Futaba arc and Sojiro found them, so they were like ohhh we really wanted to uh get some coffee! Yusuke replying "But I am not thirsty" is KY hahaha! Ann replies with "Read the room!" too XD


	9. The Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uwu This chapter is happy because I think Goro needs some happiness in his life! uwu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, Japanese beds sometimes have drawers on the side and the bed has a full base touching the floor rather than the legs most Westerners are used to. I'm not sure if the drawers are common, but that's what I had in my dorm in Tokyo, so...

           *

             He had done it. He had finally had enough of the secrets and the lying by omission. Goro would take down Masayoshi Shido—without the Phantom Thieves' help.

            Except for one thing: he stole Kurusu's phone while he was asleep.

            Route secured, Goro had gotten all the way to the engine room of Shido's cruise ship before _he_ appeared from the shadows.

            "Long time no see," said Goro's cognitive self. He wore the same arrogant smirk as last time, eerily mismatching his dull, dead eyes. They had the same body, yet Goro knew he could never truly look like that.

            _He's not even supposed to be here. Kurusu said he was dead for good._

Goro's knees shook as his mind raced with fight VS flight. It kept him rooted to the spot, stupidly opting for "freeze." The cognition's smirk turned into a fiendish smile as he approached with the silent steps of a hunter.

            "It hasn't been that long," Goro managed to reply with his sandpaper tongue. "Didn't my...associate kill you just yesterday?"

            The cognition cackled. "Please! The only one who can kill me is the captain. Surely you knew? Besides, I was referring to _this_ you I haven't seen in awhile."

            He pointed a finger at him, and Goro looked down to see the same outfit he'd manifested upon summoning Loki. No longer was its smooth, tight form convenient—now the buckles and design only served to make him feel like a prisoner. True enough, wasn't it?

            His cognitive self leveled a gun at him once again. His expression, which had been a crazed distorted version of Goro's own face, turned blank. Is this what Shido thought of him, then? Either consumed with madness or just...nothing?

            The cognition stepped toward him, and Goro took an unthinking step back—that gave Cognitive Goro all he needed to know. Another wolfish smile as he asked, "Why did you betray the captain?"

            He stepped forward again and Goro mustered the will to stay put, calling Loki to him.

            "Loki, give him Brave Blade!"

            The attack did nothing.

            His cognitive self let out a peal of laughter. "Were you even trying?"

            Goro's body began to tremble, more than just wobbly knees now—his hands and then his legs, and everything else, as if he subconsciously knew he was done for.

            Command after command, Loki faithfully hacked away at the other Goro, yet didn't even leave a scratch.

            "Are you quite finished?" asked Cognitive Goro.

            Summoning Loki over and over like this, it drained Goro's energy dry. He doubled over, panting, struggling to keep his eyes open and on the cognition, who strode toward him.

            "Stay back," Goro commanded, even though he knew how futile it was...and how much his cognitive self enjoyed toying with him.

            Why did he feel so weak? When Cognitive Goro smirked and shoved him back, back, then into the wall, why was he powerless to retaliate?

            The cognition seized him by a handful of hair and used it to push his head back against the wall with a sickening thud. The room spun for an instant as the wave of pain assaulted him.

            "You don't have an ounce of filial piety, now do you?"

            Goro struggled, attempting to kick at the other's knees, but still nothing landed.

            "How are you supposed to be loved if you're disloyal on top of being useless?" the cognition continued, leaning close to him so their faces were inches apart. Between that and the hot air of the engine room, Goro felt like he was suffocating.

            The cognition clucked his tongue and released his hold. Dazed, Goro's head tipped a bit. "You poor, pathetic thing. Never even stood a chance."

            Before he could respond, the cognition gave another crazed smile, all white teeth and wide eyes, and put his hand around Goro's throat.

            "I'll savor this," his cognitive self said, and then squeezed his windpipe.

            Goro gave a choked cry and scrabbled at the cognition's wrist in vain. His muscles may as well have been jelly.

            "If you beg, I might let you live a little longer." The cognition leaned in and whispered in his ear like the creep Shido thought he was, "Come on, I want to hear it."

            Goro shook his head vehemently. If nothing else, he still had his dignity. He would never relinquish it to this thing—and he didn't mind dying to protect what little of it was left.

            "Then rot in Hell where we belong."

            The cognition gripped his throat like a vice, harder and harder until Goro felt his very life force slip away...

            And then there he was in the Velvet Room.

            "Bad dreams, inmate?" asked the quieter of the twin wardens. Did he ever get their names?

            "Why am I here?" he asked. His near-death experience a moment ago felt so far away.

            It was Igor who answered, in his gravely baritone, "There are things to discuss and I imagined you wouldn't mind being pulled from that particular dream."

            So all of that had just been a dream? Goro's psyche tormenting itself? "For once, I agree with you," he replied.

            The hotheaded twin growled in irritation, but refrained from her usual yelling and bar-striking routine. Ugh, thank God for small miracles.

            "So why am I here this time?" he asked.

            Igor regarded him with steepled fingers. "Have you considered our deal?"

            "Kill Kurusu and get my memories back? Yes, I considered it. I decided to decline."

            "Oh?" Igor leaned forward, reminding Goro uneasily of the cognition. "I thought it would be enough that he lies to you, imprisons you, uses you as his willing tool. With the incentive of your memories, is killing Akira Kurusu not the most appealing choice?"

            "If you know what I don't, then tell me. Perhaps I would be more cooperative."

            "You're in no position to be making demands, inmate!"

            Ah, he knew the more fiery twin would erupt eventually. Honestly, he had never met someone so one-dimensional and predictable.

            "Come now, Caroline," said Igor. "What he asks is reasonable."

            Goro waited.

            "I will grant you one more memory for now. You will find it to have a more practical use than simple recollection." Igor chuckled, as if at his own inside joke.

            "How did I lose my memories in the first place?"

            Igor's eyes flashed in amusement. "How, indeed?"

            Goro wanted to snap back at that, but suddenly a wave of forced exhaustion overtook him.

            "I'm not...finished...yet..." But no amount of resistance could keep him awake.

 

***

 

            He woke to a pounding heart and a sweat-drenched shirt.

            _Just a dream, just a dream..._

And then, just as promised, the memories invaded his mind.

            In his mind's eye, he saw lines of lottery machines with cognitions here and there trying their luck, glued to their chairs. Goro and the Phantom Thieves, however, were trying their own luck against the security guards that had transformed into shadows.

            "Take them down, Robin Hood!" Goro called.

            (So _that_ was how he could summon Robin Hood!).

            Each persona had their own fingerprint, so to speak, that one had to tap into in order to summon them. Now that Goro remembered Robin Hood's, he was sure he could call the persona forth in the future.

            In his memories, after Robin Hood landed a critical hit with his hamaon, Morgana cheered, "Nice one, Crow!"

            That was the friendliest Morgana had ever been to him, for sure.

            "Yeah, Crow, awesome as usual!" That was...Futaba?

            At that point, he was starting to doubt these memories. Yet the flood continued.

            Whenever Goro got in a good hit, various team members praised him as they did each other. But...

            Shouldn't he have been happy? Overjoyed that he finally achieved this sense of belonging and camaraderie he had so craved? While that feeling was there, its very presence was agony. With every kind word and smile exchanged, Goro felt a knife drive deeper into his heart. And when he looked at Kurusu...a surge of hatred intermingling with...something else.

            He could clearly recall feeling this emotion, yet its source was still unknown to him.

            Why, why, why?! Why couldn't he remember why? All he knew was that the very memory brought a hitch to his breath and he smothered his face in his pillow to hide the tears that started trickling down his face against his will.

            The torrent of memories was merciless in its assault, however. The memory continued from where it'd left off:

            After a day's work infiltrating the cognitive casino, Goro remembered parting ways with a cheerful (fake) smile and a "See you next time!" He caught the train back to Daikanyama. (How could he have forgotten that he lived in Daikanyama?). He stalked home to his apartment, praying he wouldn't be recognized as a surge of emotion roiled in his chest like an overcharged battery. Or maybe it was more like Kurusu had played with him in all his most vulnerable places, building his tension to the breaking point and had yet to bring him to release.

            Ugh. Those types of thoughts kept worming their way into his brain lately. It disgusted him—he disgusted himself. He was disgusted the whole walk back, channeling that mood into his footsteps stabbing the pavement.

            In the safety of his apartment, Goro seized one of the chairs at the dinner table and threw it across the room. He didn't wait for the rough and clumsy clatter of wood on wood before hurling the next chair. As tempting as it was to go for the plates next, Goro resorted to shoving his books violently off the shelf instead. The day he allowed his anger to overtake him and break any fragile things he owned was the point of no return for him. Yes, he would release his anger, but never allow it to trump his rationality—

            Then, the spring of memories cut off its flow just like that, and Goro lay on Kurusu's couch with more questions than answers.

            However, a chilling thought occurred to him: If Igor could restore his memories, then surely he could plant false ones, as well. He wanted Goro to kill Kurusu, didn't he? Well, why not plant a memory of that searing hatred along with —he was loath to admit—that tormented desire? Just for kicks. Either way, it was time for him to find out.

            It was still mostly dark outside, so it was probably almost five in the morning. Goro quietly got up and put on the white button-up, khaki blazer, and black pants that had finally been washed. As a precaution, he took the zip-up hoodie and flu mask that he had worn coming back from the Diet building.

            "Akechi...?" murmured a drowsy, heavy-lidded Morgana.

            "Just getting some fresh air," he whispered.

            Morgana's head drooped back down, eyes closing for more sleep. He let out a sigh of relief upon reaching the bottom of the creaking stairs. Good. He hadn't had to deal with the wardens much—and he didn't mean the twins this time.

            In Tokyo, the train started running at 5AM, so he wouldn't have to wait long once he reached the local station by foot.

            Ah, but wait. There was the small issue of no money.

            From what he remembered, Yogenjaya to Daikanyama would probably be a 45-minute walk. Well...it could have been worse. But how to get there...?

            Goro made his way to the train station. When he asked an attendee for directions on foot, the man took pity on him for "forgetting" his wallet and let him through via the ticket office booth spanning across both sides of the ticket gate. It was even more humiliating that the train fare to Daikanyama was only 160 yen, even with a transfer from the Den-en-Toshi line at Shibuya to the Tokyu Toyoko/Minatomirai line.

            Once the train pulled into the station, his memories led him down the winding paths past the coffee shops and eclectic boutiques. For the first time since waking up after the memory loss, Goro allowed himself to relax and breathe in the crisp, early December air. He didn't mind the chill, but was pleasantly surprised to find black leather gloves crumpled in the pocket of his blazer that had miraculously emerged otherwise untarnished from the nearby coin laundry.

            The cool breeze and wide, empty streets under the sunrise put his spirit at ease. Guided by this new, almost sagely sense of calm, Goro sought out a bench and watched the sun float in a brilliant haze of orange clouds that intermingled with the light blue sky. If his memories were still accurate, his apartment was another five-minute walk.

            What would Kurusu do when he woke up at his usual 9AM to find him gone? When Morgana told him that Goro had gone to get fresh air a little over four hours ago? Would the Phantom Thieves try to find him? Did he want them to?

            Good-bye, sagely calm. His mind was back to its usual bullshit again.

            _I'm here, aren't I? Might as well bite the bullet._

He walked along the familiar streets until he reached his building. There was a spare key in the tall plant he'd placed by the door. It was buried deep in the soil because it was only for emergencies; Goro never left his key inside and he had it tucked in the coin pocket of his wallet where it couldn't slip out of his briefcase. Not that anything could slip out anyway, but Goro liked to be sure.

            Sweater and blazer removed, Goro was groping around with his right arm elbow deep in damp soil. And...there it was!

            His lip curled in disgust at the residue all over his arm, but at least there was a sink inside. And yet, once he stepped inside, all he could do was settle onto the couch in a daze and absorb the details of what had been his home until recently. Yes, it was just as nice and lacking in personality as he remembered.

            A moment later, he washed himself off and headed to his room for any hints about his past.

            _There should be a filing cabinet—and my briefcase, too if I'm lucky—_

But what he saw in his room almost made him sick.

            The filing cabinet drawers had been pulled out and emptied, as well as his briefcase, which had probably been left as a message—or rather, a warning. The drawers of his bed were pulled open with contents strewn on the floor. Any sort of compartment in his room had been ransacked, even his small shelf of books.

            Goro sunk to his knees, that dazed feeling returning as he simply stared and trembled all over.

            _This is Shido's doing...it has to be..._

Just how powerful _was_ he? How had he found out where he lived? Had Goro stupidly told him in order to gain his trust?

            Shido had to die. But how? He'd ditched the Phantom Thieves and couldn't access the app on his own.

            His shoulders shook and then his whole body was racked with sobs and cold sweat. He let the tears spill out and didn't attempt to quiet himself. Maybe he'd think clearly after a good mental breakdown.

            Still, his mind couldn't rest until he answered the two questions that circled frantically in his mind.

            _Where will I go? What do I do now?_

He crawled to his bed and curled in a ball until the tears stopped and an exhausted blankness overtook him. He lay there for what felt like eternity and he didn't give a damn. So what if Shido or whoever he had hired coincidentally returned to his apartment in hopes of finding him there? Fine. Let him finish the job.

            But in spite of himself, the emptiness washed away and his heart hammered when he heard his bedroom door slowly slide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that they haven't told us Akechi's actual neighborhood and I missed it because I could really see him living in Daikanyama!
> 
> I really wish I went to Daikanyama more, but the one (or two?) time(s) I did was quite lovely! Unfortunately, it was a bit hard to get to from both where I lived (Itabashi-ku) and where I went to school (Minato-ku). I'm trying my best to feature real places that I went to in this fic ^^ In the next chapter, I don't think I'll be able to include one of my favorite shops there—it was a charming English-style store that sold clothes and various products from England. I didn't expect to get anything there because it was so expensive, but then this absolutely adorable Peter Rabbit stuffed animal caught my eye... As a kid I never cared much about stuffed animals, but as soon as I saw this guy I shelled out 3000 yen ($30) because I HAD to have him. That was three years ago and I still sleep with him every night XD
> 
> Oh...that went on longer than I expected...  
> 'Till next time!


	10. Stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue between characters in this, so more a character study chapter this time with a torturous cliffhanger because I can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello friends, I am alive! I went from updating every few days to once a month... Well, I hope for that to change but I can't make any promises. I got a new job and I've also been working on a lot of personal stuff and...August was a wild month.
> 
> Anyway, what would I like to inform you about beforehand?  
> First, I changed this from explicit to mature for now, just because I don't know if I'll show allll the explicit details or not. I feel like I could write a love scene decently, but I don't know if I'll just be too embarrassed lolol  
> Does anyone remember when making out was a lime and sex was a lemon? XD  
> Anyway...
> 
> I like having chapter titles with double meanings: for example, stakeout can refer to the PT going on a stakeout while another part of this chapter involves them going to get fsteak at Souzai Daigaku.  
> What else...?
> 
> Oh yes! When I have characters texting, I try to write how I think they'd actually text (assuming autocorrect is on), so it's less than grammatically correct depending on who's texting (compare Makoto and Ryuji lol).
> 
> One more thing! Did you know that faucets in Japan are connected to the shower? That's always been the case for me, but I don't know if it's everywhere. Anyways, you use the sink knobs to adjust the temperature and then turn the knob thing to switch from sink to shower et voilà!

*

            "Akira, wake up!"

            No matter what time it was, Akira didn't even mind as long as it was Morgana's soft, little paw prodding at his cheek.

            "Sleepy..." he mumbled.

            Two cute paws pressed on his chest with more insistence. Without opening his eyes, Akira scooped Morgana into the crook of his arm and dozed off.

            Morgana struggled out of his grip in vain. "Argh—I'm serious! Akechi ran away and who _knows_ where he is! I knew we couldn't trust him..."

            "Akechi?" Akira sat up immediately, and Morgana took the opportunity to leap off the bed.

            "He said he was getting 'fresh air,' so I went back to sleep, but it's been over an hour and I couldn't find him anywhere outside."

            "What's he thinking?" Akira mumbled, shaking his head at the situation.

            "This was all probably some elaborate trap of his. And him wanting to join us in the engine room after finally talking sense into him—"

            "No. It wasn't a trap."

            "How do you know?"

            "Just...trust me, Morgana."

            Morgana ducked his head hopelessly. "Alright. You _are_ our leader, after all." His tone was one of resigned agreement rather than mutiny, so Akira was thankful.

            He sent a quick text to the group and got dressed as quickly as his tired legs would cooperate with him. Predictably, his phone beeped nonstop with texts from his friends.

           

            **Haru:** Was he really tricking us all this time?

            **Akira:** That's what Morgana wondered but I really don't think so

            **Ann:** No...I felt like he was being genuine, too

            **Ryuji:** I dunno guys—I mean, he's a pretty good actor ain't he? I know I never suspected that split personality thing he had goin on

            **Makoto:** That's a fair point, but...

            **Futaba:** It's too early o'clock for this. I say we just track him down and punish him for disturbing our slumber (•ˋ _ ˊ•)

            **Yusuke:** Futaba is right: first things first.

            **Futaba:** Aw thanks Inari!

            **Ann:** So if we were him, where would we go...?

            **Ryuji:** If we were "Goro-kun"?

            **Ann:** What, we had a bonding moment! And honestly...I think that guy would have turned out a lot better with a friend or two

            **Haru:** I can't look past what he did, but I do agree with you, Ann. I'm willing to show him kindness even if we can't truly be friends. And even though we fought, he ended up turning on Shido, after all...

            **Makoto:** Maybe he's been honest from the beginning of this amnesia episode.

            **Futaba:** Unlike us...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

            **Akira:** I'm sorry everyone. I put you in this position.

            **Makoto:** You did what you had to. We're all trying our best.

            **Ryuji:** Yeah man don't beat yourself up. You remember he tried to put a bullet through your skull right?

            ("He has a good point, you know!" Morgana chimed in.)

            **Akira:** Morgana says you have a point

            **Futaba:** Yeah actually I second that

            **Ann:** Jeez everything's so complicated with him isn't it?

            **Yusuke:** Perhaps it was natural for him to run away. If anything, he sees us as the untrustworthy. We have switched roles in that way, I believe.

            **Ann:** But where would he go?

            **Akira:** You guys game for splitting up to search? It's my fault he got away and I know it's early...

            **Ryuji:** Dude we're on it. Just tell us where

            **Makoto:** He could be anywhere in the city, but let's try narrowing it down.

            **Ann:** Police station?

            **Yusuke:** I don't think he is foolish enough to go there if he knows Shido is after him, but it is worth a look.

            **Akira:** Ann and Yusuke, do you want to pair up and look there? We should go in groups of two

            **Haru:** Shall we check around Shibuya as well?

            **Akira:** Good idea.

 **Makoto:** I also just had an idea. I'll meet up with a pair of you later.

            **Ann:** ?

            **Futaba:** ( ・◇・)？

            **Makoto:** I'm going to ask Sis if she knows any places he used to frequent. She probably knows where he lives, too.

            **Ryuji:** You think he remembered that stuff and didn't tell us?

            **Makoto:** Possibly. It's worth a shot.

            **Akira:** Okay then I'll go with Haru. Ryuji and Futaba, any ideas where to look?

            **Futaba:** Urk

            **Ryuji:** Uh...he seemed really excited about pancakes?

            **Futaba:** Rejected. Next idea.

            **Ryuji:** Hey why don't YOU try comin up with something?

            **Futaba:** I could go through his phone again? I still have backup data from it so I don't need the real thing atm

            **Akira:** Thanks Futaba

            **Ann:** Our hacker extraordinaire!

            **Haru:** :O You're amazing, Futaba!

 **Yusuke:** Shall Ann and I head over to the police station in the meantime?

            **Akira:** Sounds good. Haru, are you ready to go?

            **Haru:** I'll meet you at Shibuya Station!

 

***

 

            Makoto dialed her sister's number, not quite looking forward to the conversation they were about to have. With a deep breath, she tapped the call button.

            "Makoto?"

            "Sis...I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I need your help with something."

            "I'm only able to step away for a couple minutes, so..."

            "I promise it's just a quick question! I—I need to know where Goro Akechi used to live."

            Sae hummed thoughtfully. "I believe I do remember the address. Can I ask what this is all about?"

            Makoto took another deep breath and briefly explained the situation.

            "They let him have the chance to escape? That was careless. But I suppose it can't be helped."

            "Again, I'm sorry to bother you with this, Sis."

            "No, I'd like to know what's happening on your end. Especially in times like these."

            Even though Sae couldn't see it, Makoto gave a tiny smile. "Thanks. I'll let you know if my hunch is correct."

            Her sister texted her the address and she was on her way. Of course he'd live in Daikanyama, she couldn't help but think.

            It was a short train ride and a winding walk to Akechi's place. She reminded herself to go to this town more often—it was a shame she couldn't stop to smell the metaphorical and literal flowers at the moment.

            His apartment building was as nice as she'd expected. Nothing extravagant and a bit on the small side, but it was clear the detective's salary plus the side cash from his talk show appearance compensation did him well. It was reachable from a climb up a flight of steps.

            Makoto's instinctive etiquette wanted to knock politely on the door or ring the doorbell and wait, but she remembered that Shido's men were still after Akechi.

            _Damn it...I'm being reckless again,_ she thought. But she had to go through with this. Before she wallowed in self-loathing, she took deep, calming breaths like those used for the warm-up meditation at the start of each of her aikido classes.

            "Sorry, Akechi-kun," she whispered more for her own benefit as she turned the doorknob.

            Unlocked. With a swallow of apprehension, she entered with tentative steps. There was no one in the kitchen or living room, so she headed to the last room—presumably his bedroom—and kept her wits about her.

            Makoto braced herself before opening the door. What she saw from the state of his room, alone, was enough to pull a barely stifled gasp from her.

            Well, no one had attacked her yet, so she cried, "Akechi-kun?!"

            No bad men came to snatch her, so she stepped inside, surveying the mess of paper, clothes, sheets, and books strewn all over the floor.

            To the left on a bare mattress lay a huddled Goro Akechi. His breathing was shallow but ragged, and he appeared not to hear her. She took slow, soft steps toward him, as if he were a sleeping tiger. Or maybe more as if he were glass that would shatter from the sound of her footsteps. Both seemed to fit Akechi pretty well.

            "Akechi-kun?" Makoto whispered.

            _Here goes..._ She laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

            "Nijima...?" he whispered back. He sounded so out of it.

            "I'll be right back." She didn't know what else to do, so she fetched a glass of water for him from the kitchen.

            She sat on the edge of his bed and said, "Here, drink this."

            He rolled over stiffly to face her, though he didn't meet her eyes. His own russet pair was swollen and red. After managing to sit up, he sipped at the water cautiously and then chugged it down in three gulps.

            "I'll go get some more—"

            As she moved to stand up, Akechi grasped her arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

            "How did you find me?" he asked.

            Makoto sat back down. "You often worked with my sister, who's a prosecutor. She told me your address."

            He released her arm and leaned back against the wall. "That's right...Sae-san. I remembered her. I didn't know she was your sister."

            Makoto wouldn't have minded it staying that way; she recalled all too well Akechi's backhanded compliments about how the Nijimas were oh so alike.

            "Now I can see her in you," he remarked, but this time it didn't carry that undercurrent of mockery. It was purely observational.

            "You used to tell me that from time to time," she replied with a wry smile.

            He made a noncommittal hum.

            Makoto sucked in her lips, wondering how to proceed from there. "Akechi-kun...can you tell me what happened to make you so upset?" As she asked, her eyes unconsciously roved over the state of his room. She winced as Akechi caught the implication.

            "That wasn't me," he said. "Someone broke in and took everything from me. Well," he looked at the mess on the floor and chuckled ironically, "everything that matters, at least."

            Makoto knelt on the floor, skimming sections of different papers. As he'd said, nothing important.

            "It's too dangerous to stay here. Won't you come back to Leblanc with me?"

            "I can't." No hesitation.

            "I guess I forgot to ask why you ran away in the first place."

            For the first time that day, Akechi looked her straight in the eyes, shrewdly gauging her for...what? Trustworthiness?

            "If you were me and you had a chance to fill in the memory gaps, wouldn't you take it?" he asked.

            Makoto nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose I would. But none of us blame you, Akechi-kun. We don't want you getting hurt. Until we take care of Shido..."

            When she trailed off, choosing her words, Akechi slipped in his question: "Nijima-san, there's something I need to know." She waited and he continued, "Did I hate Kurusu?"

            Makoto let herself take a moment because how was she supposed to respond to that? "I don't think you do," she said finally. "I don't know what went on between you two, but I do know that you cared about him."

            She bit her lip, torn as to whether or not to go into greater detail. He regarded her with polite interest, more or less back to his usual manner, but she knew he was hungry for information.

            She took a deep breath and continued, "You were jealous of him once and...I think it just consumed you. But after that...things started to work out. That's about when you lost your memories."

           Akechi searched her gaze again and seemed to find what he was looking for. "It's like hearing a story about someone else." Another chagrined chuckle. "But...I believe you." His tone on those last words was surprised, as if he hadn't been expecting it, himself.

            Makoto breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I promised I wouldn't lie to you."

            Akechi managed a ghost of a smile. "Were we friends, Nijima-san?"

            "W-Why this question all of a sudden?"

            "You said you wouldn't lie to me."

            "So I did..." Makoto wished she were better with words, better at dulling the pain of a wounding sentence. "Again, it's—it's complicated, the way I feel towards you, but..." Come to think of it, she had barely reflected on the question with everything going on. She found that her feelings toward him _had_ changed after escaping with him from Shido's palace and understanding how he had truly felt inside.

            She settled on this: "At first, I can't say we really got along despite how it looked on the surface. Maybe we both saw each other as a threat. I don't know how you felt about me, but I was...jealous of you." Makoto turned away from his attentive gaze. Admitting it was still hard.

"My sister relied on you and saw you as a peer, but she never told me how she was feeling or anything more than brief details about her cases. As far as this investigation went, at least, you're the one she let in. And you and I are the same age."

            "I see..." Makoto could tell he was absorbing everything she'd just told him. Had she gone overboard and overwhelmed him?

            She needed to make one last statement: "But I need you to know that I want us to be friends. When I learned about what you were really going through, it gave me a better picture of you."

            "Ah, the pity treatment again," he said. There was no emotion in his voice.

            Makoto shook her head firmly. "No, actually. For the first time, I felt like I could relate to you and then, you sacrificed yourself for us. We were lucky we could all get away."

            Makoto still didn't know for sure how noble his reasons were. Revenge against Shido had been first and foremost on his mind, so maybe he knew that the Phantom Thieves were his best chance of realizing that goal. But then, she remembered the things he'd admitted and how he had never denied Morgana's insight that Akechi cared about Akira. And then how at peace he had looked for just a single moment when Makoto and the others had given him the acknowledgment he had craved all his life.

            And that's when he hinted that he wanted to join them. All it would probably have taken was a little more coaxing—

            But Cognitive Akechi had appeared and ruined it. At least they'd all escaped with their lives.

            "Honestly," Makoto continued, "empathy and understanding would be more accurate than pity."

            "Hm. I suppose I can accept that," Akechi said, and Makoto couldn't tell if he believed her or not.

            She didn't know what else to say and Akechi stared at the wall for another moment.

            Oh right! Makoto sent a quick text to the others letting them know she'd managed to track down Akechi. Now that _that_ was taken care of...

            "So what now?" he murmured.

            Good question. "What do you want to do, Akechi-kun?" she asked.

            He gave the wall a single humorless laugh. It came out softly. There wasn't much fight left in him. "Does it matter what I want?" he asked with more than a trace of bitterness in his voice.

            Makoto sighed, eyes closed in weariness. "We want to help you. I care about you as I would any other teammate. But I have a feeling you don't believe me."

            "If you cared, you wouldn't keep me in the dark about anything. As if I won't put the pieces together eventually."

            "I understand," she said. "I really do. I'd resent us if I were in your position, too. Honestly? We don't want to screw things up. You already know things were...precarious between you and Akira, and we're scared that...if we tell you one thing and forget to say another, it'll mess with your head even more."

            Akechi laughed cynically again. "You expect me to buy that?"

            It _did_ sound like a weak argument, but Makoto really had spoken sincerely. Obviously there were other reasons they kept things from him—if his reaction to learning that he had killed a couple of criminals had been so extreme, then what would happen if he learned the truth? At this point, whether he deserved another mental breakdown was another issue; the Phantom Thieves needed him whole to beat Shido.

            Wasn't that answer as honest and good as any?

            "Okay, Akechi-kun, I'll be blunt," Makoto began, feeling some of her Queen energy take over. "You're going to learn a lot of shit about your life before the memory loss and we'll tell you everything— _after_ we get rid of Shido. Got it?"

            Makoto's change of tone made him look over to her, eyes widened a moment in surprise. "Alright," he said after a blink. "I believe you. Or rather, that's an excuse I can trust." His voice was still quiet, but he was getting back to his normal self...whatever that was.

            "I meant what I said before, though. I _do_ care about you and I hate feeling like we're using you. I think the others feel the same way."

            Now it was his turn to sigh. "I understand, Nijima-san. Remembering Sae-san had convinced me of your conviction. She was practical and stern to a fault at times, but in my memories, there were a couple times that she surprised me with a show of concern for my well-being beyond being able to do my work. You seem the same in that way, though I have to say you're much gentler."

            The comparison pulled a small smile from Makoto. "Futaba always calls me Team Mom or Momkoto, and the others tend to agree."

            "And you have the luck to be saddled with seven delinquent children."

            "You're forgetting one."

            Akechi snorted in amusement. "Me? Well _this_ has taken an interesting turn."

            Makoto rolled her eyes and swatted him on the arm."

            "I believe that's child abuse, Nijima-san." But he was smiling, grinning even.

            "Oh, please." She shook her head. "And no more Nijima-san, okay?"

            "What, you want me to call you Makoto-chan like Ann?"

            The term of endearment didn't feel _quite_ right coming from him. "Just Makoto's fine."

            "I suppose it's only polite to allow you to use my first name, as well."

            "Only if you want."

            If memory served, Akechi had called Akira by his first name while Akechi had always been...Akechi.

            "You have more manners than Ann, don't you?" he mumbled. "Well, if we're going to be teammates, we may as well do it properly."

            "Alright then, Goro-kun."

            "Alright then, Makoto."

            And that was that. Makoto gave him time to put himself back together and get ready to leave. Thankfully, he didn't need too long a time; Makoto was always conscious of Shido's men that could discover them at any time. Akechi, too, in his lethargy, still did his best to hurry. (It would take her a bit of time to think of him as "Goro").

            "I'm just going to wash off and I'm set to go," he said.

            Makoto heard the faucet turn on and hoped splashing some water on his face would help wake him up. The faucet was still running like it was when she wanted to get her shower temperature just right...and she smelled...citrus? Kind of like shampoo?

            _Are you kidding me...?_ Momkoto felt one of her stress headaches coming on again.

            "Goro-kun, don't tell me that by 'wash up' you meant taking a shower."

            The only response she got was the sound of something heavy clumsily hitting the floor. The sound of a body.

            "Goro-kun?!"

            No response. The faucet continued to run and the citrus smell grew stronger, almost sickly sweet. Enough to give the air a humid feel to it.

            As black dots slowly swarmed Makoto's vision, her eyes watered and sweat ran down her back. _How could I have been so...stupid...?_

She felt her body shut down and make its way to the floor, and then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...basically, this chapter went completely different than how I first wrote it. Unfortunately, I had to take out a piece of Daikanyama from my own experience, but maybe I'll squeeze it in somewhere else. To be honest, this change was sudden and I still need to think of where to take this arc, but I believe it was needed. I used to always be one chapter ahead when I updated, but now I'm all caught up ^^;
> 
> Random notes:
> 
> Switching between names and san and chan, etc. is weird and I reeeeally hope after years of studying and having Japanese friends that I'm getting it right ^^;  
> Basically, Ann feels more intimate for Akechi than Ann-chan, while Makoto-chan feels more intimate than Makoto...I think it just has to do with personality? I'm also going by intuition. And Makoto sticks to Goro-kun, but still refers to him in her mind as Akechi because she's not good with sudden switches like our ever-friendly and less serious Ann-chan.  
> I really like playing with what the characters call each other out loud, versus how they call them in their head, versus how they refer to them.  
> ...Did that make sense? I feel like I'm having a hard time describing what I mean to say XD


	11. A Predicament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto-Goro friendship bonding power!  
> Maybe I'll make it into a drama...  
> "Mako-chan, I care about you so much, I'd die for you! I shall get down on my knees to show you just how much!"  
> "No, Goro-kun, I don't want this!"  
> *plot twist Goro feels so much love his heart explodes*  
> FIN  
> ...maybe I shouldn't write dramas  
> Don't worry, Goro will end up with Akira ;) heh
> 
> Also, purely coincidence but as I was writing this, I stumbled upon this song by IU and, when looking at the translated lyrics, I think it captures our goroboy perfectly: https://youtu.be/z3vrXXQC6a0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, buckle up childs, because I have no idea where this is going anymore than you do! (Well maybe a little)
> 
> Also, writing that little summary reminded me of another cultural note! I forgot if I talked about bowing?  
> Sorry if I'm repeating myself, but it's another little detail I find important. So, like, if you meet someone, you do a semi-deep bow, but if you're just doing a bow of minor thanks or excuse me, you can kinda head bow, and then if you screw up or something, you go right to dogeza which is those dramatic anime bows on their knees. Actually, I think my Japanese friends thought I was crazy because I asked if they've ever had to do dogeza before XD There was a big controversy how two retail workers were made to do dogeza to some crazy angry customer lady and people were especially mad because there was a child around to witness such an act.
> 
> Anyway, cultures really are full of subtle details, aren't they?

*

            It wasn't until Nijima began to stir about five minutes after he woke up that Goro learned he wasn't alone in this dark, cold, musty-smelling place. He felt a little bad for the flutter of relief in his chest at not being alone—especially since it was his fault they were in this predicament in the first place. At least they weren't tied up.

            With a drowsy groan, Nijima finally sat up. It was her movement that finally let him make out her silhouette in the near pitch black.

            "Where...?" she trailed off, then gasped a moment later. "Akechi-kun?" The outline of her head whipped left and right.

            "I'm right here," he replied softly.

            "Do you know what's going on? Did you see anyone...?"

            "No. I woke up only a little bit before you, and my eyes can only barely adjust to the dark."

            A sob escaped from her and then she was completely inconsolable for a few minutes. Nothing Goro said would help—any sort of encouragement or reassurance was laughably unrealistic. Still....it was hard to simply sit by and listen, especially since she did a decent job dealing with him a short while ago.

            Well, he _assumed_ it'd been a short while.

            "Makoto," he tried, calling her what she'd told him to back in his room. She turned to him surprised at the way he managed to use her name like a real teammate so naturally. "Let's get our emotions out and leave them to the side."

            "I can't believe I did this again," she replied in a choked voice. "What would Sis think of me now? I never learn..."

            Again? "Do you make a habit of waking up in small, dark rooms?"

            Makoto only sniffled in response. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He had a feeling his friendships pre-memory loss had been too shallow for him to deal with a display of emotions. He felt maladroit, to say the least.

            He tried one more time. "With our brains combined, we'll figure out a strategy in no time." Then he remembered what she'd just said. "Besides, it's my fault we're in this mess, not yours. I regret more than anything that I got you involved."

            Makoto shook her head back and forth vigorously. "No. I-I should have left with you right away."

            Even still, what then? Shido's henchmen (as Goro called them) would still be ready for them regardless. And the closest Metaverse entrance they had was all the way at the Diet Building... So, weighing the options, the conclusion of his little Daikanyama excursion was the same: "They've had their eye on my room every so often, it seems. The fact that I went back there at all makes me the guilty party. It was beyond stupid and reckless of me." He muttered the last part, his remorse and self-hatred rising like choking bile in his throat.

            Makoto said nothing, and in the dark he couldn't tell how she was feeling.

            He continued, "Again, I apologize. But we can't afford to debate whose fault it was. We need to size up our environment and see if there's _any_ thing that could be of use."

            He heard an audible swallow from her, then saw a nod. "Y-Yes, you're right, Goro-kun."

            "Then let's get started, shall we? And, on the bright side, my eyes adjusted a little more." Small victories. Goro had no idea how he felt nothing but calm detachment now, but he _really_ hoped it would last.

            Now it was Makoto's turn to collect herself and get down to business. There was one dirty frosted window way up high that provided the barest trace of light, only enough to see Makoto's outline move this way and that as she felt along the walls for any sign of decay or exit. Neither of them ended up having any luck in that regard.

            "There really is no way out of this, is there." The tone of Makoto's voice was a monotonous, helpless one he recognized.

            "We're not finished yet," he replied, not quite believing his own words. Although, strangely, he felt a little braver, even stronger, when there was someone he was watching out for.

            It was then that the door opened, bringing with it blinding light. Goro squinted and tried his best to make out the two suited figures in front of him.

            The one on the right greeted them with a nod to each, "Akechi-san. Nijima-san." So they knew exactly who Makoto was...

            "What do you want with us?" Goro asked in a flat tone by way of response.

            "Shido-san would like to discuss your recent transgression."

            Goro didn't need to fully remember Shido to know that that was basically code for "Our master, Shido-sama, would like to use sadistic methods of extracting every relevant piece of information in your head, and possibly your dignity, before killing you."

            To which Goro replied, "I'd rather not." That earned him a dizzying cuff to the head. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I will clear up this idiotic misunderstanding with Shido-san. What do you intend to do with Nijima-san?"

            Goro would talk to Shido, play the double agent once more. He hadn't realized how difficult it would be to act indifferent to Makoto's fate. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.

            The man on the left smiled unpleasantly, but let his partner do the talking again. "Absolutely nothing...as long as Sae Nijima cooperates," he said.

            "I see," was all Goro allowed himself to say.

            "What does she have to do with any of this?" Makoto demanded. She received the same blow to the head as Goro. She took it with only a hint of a stifled cry of surprise. Makoto was tough.

            Goro bit down hard on the inside of his lip, but gave no other reaction. "To Shido-san, then," he said without the slightest hint of inflection.

* 

            Shido's study (or so Goro assumed) was not grand in an overstated way, but its whole decorum was undoubtedly rich. After depositing Goro before their master, the two men bowed deeply and silently existed...leaving him all alone with the man who wanted to kill him.

            Perfect.

            Goro sized up Masayoshi Shido as quickly as possible. Even sitting at the desk with a stack of paperwork belied a certain powerful air about him. Otherwise, however, nothing about him stood out.

            "You really turned out to be useless in the end, didn't you," Shido said.

            It wasn't in a cartoon villain way like how Cognitive Goro sometimes talked, but rather simply irritated and disdainful.

            "My apologies, Shido-san," Goro replied smoothly, hoping that it was the right form of address. It felt familiar on his tongue, a realization he was less than fond of.

            "How many times have I told you that there would be consequences for being a nuisance? I hope you weren't expecting preferential treatment." Shido smirked ironically.        There was something about that last remark that rang alarm bells, but Goro didn't know why. "I would never, sir. The only reason why I was gone so long was because of the Phantom Thieves."

            He couldn't possibly return Shido's unfriendly smile and confidence when his heart was pounding this way, so he settled on a neutral expression of all-business.

            Shido looked skeptical, forefingers to his temple as he leaned on his elbow, but he said, "Go on."

            Goro swallowed. "I confronted the Phantom Thieves...and lost. The fight and using my persona so much drained me until I lost consciousness."

            Shido made a soft grunt of dissatisfaction, but otherwise waited for him to continue.

            "I woke up in the Phantom Thieves' hideout without any memories—not my name, what I looked like, the year...nothing."

            Shido snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"

            Goro forced himself to laugh along quietly. "As farfetched as it sounds, it's the truth. They told me all sorts of lies about myself, not knowing that my memories had been gradually coming back—namely memories of the work you and I have done together and my reason for hunting the Phantom Thieves in the first place."

            Shido's expression was unreadable. "I see. So that's why you disappeared and dropped contact."

            "Yes. If I could have alerted you to my process, I would have."

            Shido rubbed his chin in thought and then stood up. Goro fought the instinct to take a step back.

            "That certainly _is_ a wild story. You'll understand if I require one last measure of proof?"

            More alarm bells. Goro smothered the uneasiness reluctantly. "Of course, Shido-san."

            Without another word, Shido led the way out and down the nondescript corridor. Was this a trap? Shido had agreed too easily. Then again, if he wanted Goro tortured or killed, he certainly wouldn't have to lie about it.

            Goro was only a little surprised that they arrived where Makoto sat tied to a chair next to two idling henchmen. She was a Phantom Thief, so Shido probably wanted to use their connection for this proof he sought. So Goro squashed down yet another instinct, the urge to ask her if she was okay (relatively) or if they'd harmed her, even touched her, in any way. He spared her only a disinterested glance like his role required and chuckled sardonically.

            "Did you want me to identify her as a Phantom Thief? I thought that would be obvious by now."

            Makoto narrowed her eyes, watching him. He knew she was deciding whether or not he was really betraying her. He supposed he couldn't fault her for doubting, but...

            Shido smiled, thin-lipped. "To celebrate your return, I'll forgive your insolence just this once."

            When he drew a gun, Goro tensed and Makoto gasped. Then, Shido did the unexpected: he handed the gun over to Goro.

            "Kill her," he said.

            Goro smiled wryly, a lurch of his stomach making him feel like he would throw up then and there. Unlike the last time he got sick over the thought of shooting someone, however, he was surrounded by enemies rather than allies. Luckily, the feeling passed.

            All he could do was say aloud exactly the thought going through his head. "Ah, of course. How could I expect anything less?"

            The gun was light, so he figured one bullet left: one chance to finish the job. It definitely sent a message. Goro trusted his hand not to shake as he held the weapon. He had memories of wielding weapons as the Crow of the past, so he transferred that into a comfortable ease with the gun.

            He aimed straight at Makoto's head—the quickest, surest target.

            Her face drained of color. "Are you really...?" The last word was no more than a whisper.

            Goro took a breath—and pivoted to shoot the guards closest to her, pulling the trigger again and again in case he'd underestimated how many bullets there were.

            Nothing but the sound of clinking metal and a hollow chamber.

            "As expected," Shido remarked in a bored sort of voice.

            The guards were still standing as if the last moment had never occurred, albeit they were more on guard.

            "You really are the perfect traitor, aren't you?" Shido continued. "I'm afraid snakes like you are useless to me." Goro finally wanted to laugh at the irony.

            With great difficult, he said, "Tell me what you want from me. Anything as long as you let Nijima-san go."

            Makoto made a noise of protest, but Goro shook his head to silence her. Once she was out of there, he'd find his own escape.

            Shido sighed like he was a teacher dealing with some slow student. "Fine, then. I've put up with your blatant disrespect for long enough. Show me how important she is to you. Demonstrate your allegiance to me with proper respect."

            Goro let out a breath, his eyes closing as he understood what was expected of him. Well, what did he have to lose aside from pride with the gesture of submission in such grave circumstances? He sank to his knees and then bent over with palms and forehead to the ground. How glad he was that all he could look at was the ground.

            Shido waited a moment before speaking, probably enjoying the sight. "Will you be loyal only to me from now on? Do you promise never to disobey me again?"

            His throat suddenly felt dry, but after a pause, he ground out a response. "Yes."

            "I want to hear you state it."

            Goro finally felt the sensation he'd been avoiding, tears threatening to spill out, clamping his throat. What was he doing? He was giving Shido complete satisfaction when he would, in all likelihood, dispose of Goro regardless.

            Still, he carried on in a weak voice so unlike his smooth lilt from earlier: "I am loyal only to you..." It was hard to continue.

            "And?"

            He swallowed, willing his voice to keep working for a little while longer. "I promise never to disobey you again."

            "You're sick," he heard Makoto say. "Are you so desperate for respect that you have to subjugate high-schoolers?"

            One of the guards grunted in annoyance and Goro heard the sound of a stinging slap. It echoed off the walls, making it sound all the more painful.

            _Please, just stay quiet,_ he wanted to say. _I'm doing this for_ you _._

            Neither the slap nor his mental pleading deterred the Queen of the Phantom Thieves.

            "I don't know how you can live with yourself," she hissed.

            Shido simply chuckled and Goro heard quiet footsteps approaching before he was yanked up by his hair. Makoto was right. He really was desperate to lay down the law with a teenager.

            If his voice worked, he would have laughed out to Shido how pathetic he was.

            "Makoto Nijima is of far more use to me than you are," he said. "Even if you weren't a little backstabber, your job's been done."

            He let Goro's head drop and inclined his head toward the guards. "Get rid of him."

            A shot rang out and Goro was dead before Makoto even let out a scream.


	12. Shopping Spree!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ugh, I'm beat," Ryuji said as he met back up with Futaba, who'd given up awhile back. "Let's just say Akechi effin' died in a ditch somewhere and go home."

*

            Goro Akechi was not, in fact, dead in a ditch somewhere. Well, not exactly. As his consciousness straddled life and death, it was brought yet again to the Velvet Room. Goro had a feeling it was no coincidence that its atmosphere was no more welcoming than Shido’s bunker.

            Hm…so had it all been some dream conjured by Igor? It felt faraway as previous events tended to upon waking up the next day. At least the bed of the prison cell was more comfortable than the floor of the room he and Makoto—

            A rush of adrenaline surged through him and he abandoned all sense of froideur on the spot. Frankly, he didn’t care that Igor saw him without a mask in place anymore. If this place was accessed through sleep, then he needed to wake up. He had a feeling it was up to Igor to let him go.

            “You didn’t pick a good time to invite me over, old-timer,” Goro called over, hands gripping the bars and face pressed against the gap between them.

            As soon as Caroline opened her mouth to rebuke him, he snapped, “YOU shut up for once.” She let out a shocked squeak that would have been amusing at any other time, and kept quiet.

            He received a deep, rumbling chuckle from Igor. The old midget’s ephemeral grin pissed Goro off even more.

            “I need to get back to where I was—I need to wake up,” he said, daring Igor to refuse even though Goro was the one vulnerable and behind bars.

            “In due time, trickster,” Igor replied, infuriatingly idle. “But first, there are things we will discuss.”

            “I assure you, I’ll be a far better conversationalist when I’m not distracted by trying to fix the life-and-death situation I was in the middle of.”

            “Use your head, trickster,” said Igor, and Goro bristled a bit at that because he was the Detective Prince, after all. “The construct you call time is not a factor here.”

            He hated to admit it, but the old man was right. His head wasn’t in gear. After forcing two deep breaths, he replied flatly, “Fine, then. What is it you wanted to discuss?”

            Igor made another deep hum in his throat, but Goro deciphered it as a pleased response. “You are not my only trickster. I have one other.”

            Goro eyed him warily. “Let me guess: Akira Kurusu.”

            “Correct.”

“Is that why you want me to kill him?” He snorted derisively. “You certainly have an interesting idea of entertainment. Then again—” his eyes flicked disdainfully about the dungeon, “I can’t entirely blame you.”

            “I would advise you, as a player in my game, not to take this lightly. Unlike you, I am not attached to the fate of your world—be it destroyed or re-born.”

            As always, Igor’s answers left Goro with a million more questions. Doubtless he did that purposely.

            “Let me guess: you’ve been telling Kurusu to kill me, as well.”

            “How else would proxies decide the fate of their world?”

            “Proxies? You mean to say that one of us represents the world’s life and the other death?”

            Igor steepled his fingers, smile baring all teeth. “Precisely.”

            Oh? This was an unexpected twist. “What side do I represent?”

            The few seconds it took Igor to begin answering felt unbelievably stretched. “Before your memory loss, you would never need ask. You were less clear about the intentions of the other trickster.”

            “Kurusu…” He was quiet and seemed so detached from everything. While mild-mannered and unassuming in day-to-day life, Goro had seen what had to have been Kurusu’s true colors—ironically emerging once he donned the mask of Joker. Joker was dark and ruthless. Joker unnerved him.

            Goro placed himself next to him in his mind’s eye. In his recovered memories, one theme intertwined through them all was this strong sense that Goro would be the hero the nation needed.

            The hero who would bring down the Phantom Thieves.

            _Is that it?_ It was like someone had whacked him over the back of his head. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Goro knew for sure that Ann was kind, Makoto was kind…even a couple of the other members were so obviously good even though he barely knew them (and were giving him the cold shoulder).

            Was Kurusu a corrupt leader and _that_ had been why he had hunted and even blackmailed the Phantom Thieves at one point? Ugh. Despite the fact that he prided himself on his intellect and power of analysis, his head was spinning. Igor was probably enjoying himself watching Goro cope with the onslaught of information.

            “Does Kurusu know his role?”

            Igor stared eerily into him and took a moment before answering. Deciding it was self-serving to give Goro a straight answer, he simply replied, “Yes.”

            “So he’s been told to kill me, too, I presume?”

            _He’s had his chance a hundred times. If he’s so bad, then he would’ve finished the job ages ago._

Something wasn’t adding up, obviously. To his complete frustration, he couldn’t tell truth from fiction with Igor—and it was dangerous to assume all was a lie in case it came back to bite him.

            He thought about the gentle Kurusu without Joker’s mask: the Kurusu who helped him, made him comfortable in his home, accepted him despite their shaky past together. He thought of the small kindnesses, the way he lent him what he needed, prodded him with food and drink if he went too long without one or the other because Goro rarely asked for it. Igor had to be lying, then—Kurusu would never willingly destroy the world.

            Unless he got lost in his own Joker façade and unwillingly unleashed the pent-up chaos Goro knew lay within.

To Igor, he laughed mirthlessly. “I have a feeling I could play your game better if all these rules were outlined for me.”

            Igor didn’t seem to agree. “I provide you with all the information you need.”

            “I would argue otherwise.”

            Caroline let out a cry of exasperation. Goodbye, blissful silence. “Master, how can you let him talk to you like this?!”

            Igor glanced at her like she was the dirt beneath his shoes and she shut up immediately. Goro knew he should have been relieved, but something about it made him feel a twinge of empathy.

            _So it’s kill or be killed? Not a very exciting game,_ he thought. If he’d had any reason to want to live, it’d be a different story.

            One last thing: “Assuming the situation you pulled me from wasn’t a dream, aren’t I already dead?”

            “A slight detour that can be fixed,” was Igor’s answer.

            Goro didn’t have it in him to be surprised anymore. “Is that all?” he asked, more than ready to wrap up this conversation.

            The old demon stared Goro down without blinking again. Still unsettling…

            “For now. I will give you a moment to reflect: if you could live this day over, how might it change?”

            Goro’s mind automatically calculated the options he could have taken.

            _I wouldn’t have gone back to my apartment in the first place—especially lying there catatonic with despair. I would have left with Makoto right away because I already knew there was even a slight chance that she’d be involved—_

And like that, a light enveloped the dungeon and his thoughts washed away.

 

*

 

            The very next sensation of which Goro was aware was stinging, tear-crusted eyes, tense muscles, and something padded beneath his curled body. He forced his eyes open as quick as possible, no longer naïve enough to consider the possibility that this was a dream.

            The only view he had before him was the wall, so he rolled over to take in the rest of the room. It was just as he’d left it, the mess from the break-in still strewn all over. This could only mean one of two things—

            “Akechi-kun?”

            He bolted up. That was unmistakably Makoto’s voice, mostly proving his first theory. Still, he had to be sure…

            It was hard, but he let her find her way to him without making a sound. If he recalled correctly, their attackers had waited until the two of them were lulled into a false sense of security and ready to settle into Goro’s room for awhile. He didn’t like to take the chance that it would go exactly the same way, but it was his best line of strategy.

            He collected himself as much as he could for the escape. The only thing he planned to take were the clothes on his back, so no problem there. Goro sat on the edge of the bed and waited. It was torture.

            He heard Makoto’s tentative steps reach his bedroom and hesitantly open the door. She straightened in surprise when she saw him still and sitting, turned towards her as if expecting her. Well, he was…this time around.

            Now, how could he get them out before arousing suspicion? Shido’s henchmen probably—no, _surely_ —had his room bugged. He _could_ run out, luring them away from Makoto, but it was too late for that—she was still valuable as both a source on Goro and hostage combined. He ignored the instinct to run to her, ask her if she was alright. All the signs pointed to the fact that Igor had really done it.

He had sent Goro back in time.

“Akechi-kun, are you okay?”

She really _was_ reckless when emotionally involved. Well, no one was perfect, as he’d earlier mused. Goro put a finger to his lips to hush her, causing her red eyes to dart around the room. Most importantly, she said nothing and made no sudden movements.

“It-It’s hard for me to talk,” he said softly, searching the pile of things on the floor for a pen and any sort of paper he could write on.

“Um, don’t strain yourself, then,” Makoto replied.

He _had_ been sobbing his eyes out a bit before this point in the timeline, if he recalled correctly, so it added an authentic strain to his voice.

After locating pen and paper, he wrote: _I’ll explain everything to you later, but we must leave immediately. We’re being watched for sure and probably bugged._

“That’s completely understandable,” Makoto said kindly with a smile. “What do you suggest?” It helped a lot that she could act.

She reached into her pocket and bit her lip as he wrote out his next response.

For his part, Goro lowered his eyes and squinted, forcing himself to turn out a quick solution. Nothing would come. He shook his head hopelessly to tell her he didn’t know yet. He wrote: _They’re armed and have gas through the pipes, so let’s be quick._

Makoto’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an “o” of a soundless gasp. To her credit, she smoothly replied, “I think we should stay here until we know for sure this was Shido’s doing.”

Her words and the sincerity in her voice made Goro freeze. Did Igor do more than send him to the past…? Another universe instead?

“I mean…,” she continued, “isn’t he kinda like our new captain? Like Japan is a ship and he’s steering us?” There was something about her tone that reminded him of Ann somehow.

And then he understood embarrassingly late.

Goro was starting to get used to the world warping around him.

 

*

 

Daikanyama was rather far from the Diet Building, the heart of Shido’s distortion, so the giant cruiser was nowhere to be found. Needless to say, Makoto and Goro found themselves smack-dab in the middle of the angry red sea, only barely able to keep themselves afloat.

Despite the uncomfortable situation, fleeing to the Metaverse had been the best idea. He hadn’t even considered using it as an escape route!

            Makoto waved an arm and looked like she had something urgent to say, but between the shrieking winds and chaotic tides, there was no way to communicate. Better late than never, Goro realized that their clothes still changed in Shido’s palace from the get-go no matter how far away they were from the Diet Building.

            Flailing to stay afloat with his legs and one arm, Goro ripped his red mask from his face and called for Robin Hood. It was a miracle he managed not to swallow a mouthful of water in the process. Though this would deplete all of his capacity to use Robin Hood for anything else, a flight far far away (to solid ground) was all they needed.

As soon as his persona held them aloft, Makoto cried, “Wait!” She pointed to the two bodies floundering in the water.

“They work for Shido.” The tension of the situation turned his tone snappish.

“We can’t leave them here!”

Goro ran a palm over his face. “Fine.”

_Robin Hood, get us somewhere far away, and bring those two along as well—unconscious._

_A sound decision,_ was the reply.

Robin Hood cast some relatively harmless magic on the men before retrieving their floating bodies, then somehow managed to carry all four of them. It was exhilarating flying through such winds tens of feet above the raging sea. Goro couldn’t decide if he loved or hated every second of it. One glance at Makoto’s tortured expression told him she had no trouble deciding, herself.

Then, at last, his persona found an adequately stable skyscraper and deposited them on the roof it.

_Thank you, Robin Hood._

_Finally, some manners,_ it remarked cheekily and then disappeared back to wherever he dwelled.

Goro promptly sank to his knees and then flopped over. He waved a hand up nonchalantly when Makoto let out a small gasp of concern. As suspected, using his persona to that extent had drained him.

“They won’t wake up as long as we don’t disturb them, I assume?” Makoto pointed to Shido’s unconscious henchmen.

“Should be the case,” Goro mumbled drowsily. It was like his persona had cast a spell on him, as well.

“Here,” she said after a moment. He turned his head to see her hold out a tiny bottle of clear liquid. “This will give you energy. I have it on hand in case of emergencies in the Metaverse.”

It went against instinct to accept such a suspicious thing, but accept it he did, and wincingly.

“Um, does it taste bad?” Makoto asked when he made the expression. “If I remember correctly, it should taste like water.”

Well, five seconds had passed and he felt…good? Amazing, in fact.

“Oh, not at all,” he replied pleasantly, refraining from telling her his poison suspicions and hurting her feelings. “Thank you. I needed that.”

After a moment of vacantly staring into the abyss that was Shido’s Japan, Makoto asked with a touch of humor, “So do you want to tell me what’s going on now?”

Staying in the Metaverse for the time being was probably a good idea. Outside, they would be powerless _and_ targeted.

“Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose,” Goro responded. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve traveled through time?”

Makoto took one glove off and slid the back of her hand to his forehead under his bangs. For some reason, it stirred some long-forgotten sentiment in him.

“Don’t tell me you’re checking for a fever,” he said, eyes lazily closed. Since when didn’t he mind someone touching him? Her hand was soft and cool on his skin, he couldn’t help but notice. He wondered if the pre-memory loss Goro had been touchy-feely in any way…but seriously doubted it.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Makoto replied, oblivious to his inner ponderings. She withdrew her hand.

“Ask Kurusu about the Velvet Room. Maybe him you’ll believe,” he said mildly. He sure couldn’t blame her for healthy skepticism even though she had been through the Metaverse and all that came with it.

His remark drew another note of concern from Makoto. Though, admittedly, he’d said it aloud because he _knew_ how it would sound to someone who hadn’t gone through the insanity he had. A private little joke with himself.

“How about this?” he proposed. “I start from the beginning of today and you tell me your verdict at the end. Ask me all the questions you’d like in-between.”

Makoto wore a hint of a smile. Those small smiles were hard-won, but felt good to receive. “That sounds fair enough,” she complied.

While Goro was happy that she had no memory of all his humiliating displays during the previous timeline, it was embarrassing even just running through what happened—even if he left certain unnecessary details out. He began with his waking up in Leblanc with a map to his apartment back in his head, and desperate for information about himself.

“I ended up learning a lot about myself from you,” he mused. “The relationship between you and I, my relationship with Kurusu…Oh and I should explain again that I didn’t ransack my own room in some emotional breakdown, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Did the ‘other me’ assume so?” Makoto’s expression was a conflict of skepticism and something like trust.

“Doesn’t your current self assume so?”

She considered it. “Maybe if I’d had more time to process things.”

“Shido got there before me, obviously. When I searched everything, nothing important was left. Nothing to help my memories, either. Well, at least your assumption let me learn how unstable I must be.” He attempted a laugh and it fell flat.

“It’s more…complicated than that,” Makoto said.

“I know. And I’ll figure the rest out. I’ve decided, based on the things you said, to trust you a bit more.”

It was a shame, he surprised himself to think, that their tenuous friendship had been erased by the rewinding of time—though it was certainly a small price to pay for their lives.

“Is that where the sudden change of address came from, Akechi-kun?”

Makoto had sharp ears—even in the midst of everything going on.

“Y-Yes.” Now he was feeling self-conscious.

“What did I call you in return, then?”

“Er, I think Goro-kun was about all you could do. And you didn’t like the idea of Makoto-chan either.”

“Hm…” she stared at the ground thoughtfully. Goro wondered whether she was starting to believe his story. “And you’re sure this wasn’t a dream? You _were_ on your bed when I found you.”

He gave her a deadpan look. “How else would I have known enough to get us out of there? Well, you’re free to believe whatever you choose.”

Not quite content with that, Makoto threw in a few more questions in classic Nijima style: What happened after we talked? Would Shido try to use me as leverage against Sae if I didn’t fall into his lap? Etc., etc. Goro explained as well as he could, still leaving out a couple things better left forgotten.

“And this ‘Velvet Room’…?” she finally asked.

He paused and realized that he didn’t know what Igor would do if Goro got anyone involved, or even talked about the Velvet Room with anyone.

“That will have to wait. You of all people would understand if I carry around some hidden information.”

Makoto narrowed her eyes at the remark. “Me of all people? Even with your memory gone, there are some ways you just haven’t changed.”

Goro blinked in confusion and sat up to face her fully. It was only after her reaction that he realized his comment had been hurtful to her. Before he had time to examine exactly why, he focused on more important things.

“I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that,” he replied, “but the last thing I want to do is start an argument.”

Makoto nodded reluctantly.

“Despite all your secret-keeping, I’m trusting you,” he said. “I trust you’ll tell me everything after we kill Masayoshi Shido as you promised—”

“Akechi-kun,” she interrupted, “The Phantom Thieves don’t kill.”

“A figure of speech,” he replied airily. “We’ll beat Shido, and then—”

“Akechi-kun,” she interrupted once again, more firmly. Red eyes bored into him and it was hard not to look away. “This is important. The Phantom Thieves aren’t murderers.”

Finally, he did look away. “Yes, I understand. As I was _trying_ to say before…trust me.”

 

*

 

            “This…doesn’t look like Tokyo,” Makoto commented as soon as their surroundings cleared up. Her brow was wrinkled like she was getting another headache.

            They had landed in a narrow brick-paved walkway that curled up and around a brick wall. There was a somewhat tinny orchestra playing in the background amidst the sound of gushing fountain water. In the stark blue twilight, Goro made out a plaza and more pinkish-orange buildings in the glow of the lamplight. Up the alley spiral were quaint shops beneath awnings.

            “Um, Makoto? I think we’re in Italy.”

            As if on cue, an unseen speaker over the plaza relayed an announcement in what was unmistakably Japanese.

            “So what part of Italy do you think we’re in?” Makoto asked with a tiny teasing smile.

            _The Japan part,_ Goro thought. Makoto _had_ known he was joking, right? Out loud, he parroted, “So what part of Japan do you think we’re in?”

            “No idea. I’ll check our location on the maps app.”

            And the results were in. Just a moment later, Makoto’s phone rang, she picked it up, and then…

            “You’re in _Kawasaki_?!”

            Even from a couple meters away, Goro could hear Futaba screech through the receiver in Makoto’s cell.

            Makoto, whose ear was as close as could be, winced before responding. “That seems to be the case. Everything I put in the group chat is need-to-know information. I was going to save the rest for when we could all meet.”

            Apparently, Kawasaki was a city in the Kanagawa prefecture and they’d landed in La Cittadella, a shopping and entertainment center built to look like some provincial Italian town.

            Makoto had sent the group chat a message that they were both safe and would return to Tokyo soon. To both their surprise, Futaba had freaked out and actually called Makoto instead of hiding behind texts as she usually did.

            “We’ll meet you there! Well, not _there,_ but somewhere nearby.”

            Makoto’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then Futaba must have lowered her voice because Makoto nodded at a couple intervals.

            “If you’re ready for it, Futaba-chan, I think it’s a great idea.” Her tone of voice had switched to a gentler, comforting one much like she’d used with him in that other timeline. He had the most bizarre twinge of regret again that she’d forgotten about that, and it made him uneasy.

            So Goro and Makoto hid the unconscious bodies of Shido’s henchmen as best they could (each behind a bench) and decided it was best to casually make their way to the big Kawasaki station just several minutes away.

            “We actually thought it would be a bad idea to meet in the same vicinity as where those two will wake up, so we’re all going to meet somewhere in-between here and Shibuya, but nowhere conspicuous. It’s, um, partially for Futaba’s sake, as well.”

            Goro had a feeling that Futaba’s issues were long and complicated.   “Works for me,” he said.

            “Hm…you might stick out, though. You still look like you do on TV, so you’ll need new clothes.” She squinted her eyes in thought, then smiled wryly. “Good thing we’re at a shopping center.”

            He really _was_ in another timeline, wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to include another place that I often visited while in Japan! La Cittadella was rather close to where I worked (which was right next to the big Kawasaki Station, I mentioned). I would become extremely anxious every night and because of its European setting and warmth compared to the other parts nearby (especially where I lived :/ ), it was one of the places that brought me comfort when it got dark outside.  
> It's a cute, little place! I wanted to see a movie there once but movie tickets in Japan cost like $18 O.O So I had to wait for Wednesday (Ladies Day?) or the 18th of the month for some reason I forgot. On the other hand, the movie theatres are super bougie XD  
> I watched Wonder Woman in Tokyo, though I was the only one who would snicker at some of the jokes lolol Lost in translation...?  
> Anyway, I wouldn't recommend going out of your way to go to Kawasaki, but it was a nice little area, I suppose.


	13. Acquaintances New and Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A literal and figurative blast from the past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so it's been almost half a year? Hope you guys have been doing well! To be honest, I've been reflecting on this fic and Akeshu, in general. I'm just not going through the same phase as I was when I started this fic almost a year ago. TBH, I've been going through a weird phase where I'm just kind of indifferent to romance, smut, etc. etc. However, I feel like I made a commitment to this fic so we'll see where it goes! If it doesn't feel right, or it feels like their relationship is forced, then I just won't write anymore.Still, I really like the relationship between Akechi and Akira, no matter what form it takes, and I want to do my best not to rush it or make it unnatural. I'll only write something authentic, or else it's not good.
> 
>  
> 
> Random note:  
> So, I decided not to write the name Arsene anymore unless I have to because I don't know how to use accents on my new computer and it bothers me if that middle e is naked and accentless...
> 
> Also, apparently Persona is capitalized? Whoops. Well, I'll do that from now on!

            As soon as the Phantom Thieves caught sight of Makoto and Goro, they pounced. The flock of them ran over with questions of “Where the heck were you guys?!” and “Are you okay?!” and so on. Futaba and Ann went straight for a clumsy hug with Makoto. It was pretty funny watching her stumble under their weight.

            No one rebuked Goro for having run away and indirectly putting Makoto in danger, but he felt more than one silent accusation. How was Makoto’s safety _his_ responsibility? He did feel guilty somehow, and he acknowledged the cause and effect of his actions, but the blame wasn’t all his to bear. Once again, he smothered the frustration he felt toward the group’s occasional harsh bias against him.

            “I’m fine,” said Makoto, “thanks to…Goro-kun.” She managed a smile even though the change of address hadn’t come so naturally.

            “Wha--?” Sakamoto blurted, “You’re on the first name train, too?”

            “We’re a team. There’s no reason for any distance and…” Whatever other reason Makoto had tapered off, but only Goro seemed to notice.

            “Aww, looks like everyone’s getting used to you!” Ann ribbed, nudging him playfully with her elbow. Either his skin was glass or she could crack granite with that thing. He took the pain for friendship’s sake.

            “Hope you don’t mind, Go-chan,” Kurusu chimed in with that teasing yet soft-spoken voice of his.

            At the sound of the ridiculous nickname from him, Goro’s stomach did a cliché flip-flop. What was he, some middle school girl with a crush?

            “Call me that and I throw you to the shadows,” Goro said cheerfully.

            Kitagawa interrupted with more practical matters, however. “I, for one, would like to hear what happened to Makoto and Goro.”

            A pause. “Inari went for the name switch pretty quick,” Futaba mumbled.

            “Did we not agree on that?” said Kitagawa. “I simply want our teamwork to run smoothly.”

            “Anyway,” said Makoto, “that’s a good idea.”

            They headed somewhere crowded enough not to stand out but not crowded enough to deter Futaba, who needed socializing practice, or so Goro gathered.

            “What’s Futaba’s issue again?” he asked Kurusu when he had a chance.

            Kurusu hesitated. It was a touchy subject, no doubt, and Goro had cut right to the chase.

            “I’m not sure what you know already, but Futaba had a rough couple years. She’s…how do I put it?” Kurusu scratched the back of his head as he searched for words. “She’s sort of ‘re-integrating’ into society.”

            Goro had a feeling that that was all he’d get. Even despite the subject, Goro’s approach had been very direct. He blamed his detective spirit. “Futaba is lucky to have friends like you.”

            Kurusu hummed noncommittally. “So, _Goro_ ,” he began with a teasing glint in his eyes, and Goro’s stomach did that annoying flip again, “does the name Wakaba Isshiki mean anything to you?” He cast a glance at the group as if making sure they hadn’t heard.

            Goro’s snap thought was _yes_. Had someone asked him this before or…?

            “Who is that person?” Goro asked a bit more sharply than intended and was taken aback at his own tone. He narrowed his eyes. “And why don’t you want your friends to hear us?”

            And of course at that moment, the scattered group decided to come back together, turning away from the taiyaki, clothing stores, and the like, and toward the two of them. He suppressed the flare of irritation at the interruption.

            “Let’s talk tonight,” Kurusu murmured. “In Mementos.”

            _Mementos?_ Goro didn’t understand, but he had no choice but to wait.

 

* * *

 

            Once the number of Phantom Thieves had dwindled and it was down to Kurusu, Goro, and Morgana, there was a certain something buzzing in the air. It was partially Goro, who was inevitably exploding with curiosity, but also from Kurusu who seemed a little less sleepy than he appeared. There was a bit of an absence—just a bit—of his natural ease that Goro so envied. Morgana glanced over, as if also aware, but remained quiet.

            Did Morgana know what Kurusu had proposed for tonight?

            “So about Mementos,” Kurusu began casually.

            That answered that.

            The cat went on alert. “What _about_ Mementos?”

            “Go-chan and I were gonna have a wildcard training session, wanna come?” Again, that casual tone. Goro rolled his eyes at the nickname again, but refrained from saying anything—it was probably futile. “We’d invite Futaba, too, if she weren’t sleeping over at Ann’s.”

            “Couldn’t you have told me earlier?! It’s way too late for Mementos today, anyway!”

            The cat was very strict about bedtime.

            Goro rolled his eyes again because it was dark enough.

            “Sorry, Mona, it’s important,” Kurusu replied. “It’s about the multiple Persona ability we have. I don’t want to delay any longer.”

            “I don’t know…” Morgana glanced warily from Kurusu to Goro.

            Annoyed, Goro pasted a smile on his face. “Don’t feel bad for not joining us, Morgana. After all, you can’t help that you’re more of a house cat.”

            “WHAT?!” Morgana leapt up onto the brick ledge lining the residential homes to stare Goro down at his own height.

            Kurusu stepped between them. “Okay, okay, let’s just take a breather tonight.”

            “Not until he takes back the house cat comment!”

            Goro’s resolve wavered as Kurusu looked at him expectantly. He sighed deeply. “Fine, Morgana, I’m very sorry for calling you a house cat.”

            “Hmph!” Whether Morgana believed him sincere or not, he stalked off along the ledge toward Leblanc without another word.

            Kurusu scratched the back of his head again as they made for the train station. “Uh, Mona’s kind of sensitive about that. Just so you know for next time.”

            “Don’t you get annoyed at the way he bosses you around?”

            “Mona’s Mona. He just wants everything to go smooth, and for me to sleep better than most kids my age, I guess.”

            Goro didn’t have a productive reply, so he said nothing. Besides, he needed to work on these random surges of anger and irritability. Regaining his memories only fueled this tendency, to his chagrin. Rather than relatively recent memories, lately he had been assailed with those dating awhile back. Vague memories of an institution, and the face of a girl.

            When they entered Mementos, Goro asked, “So what did you have in mind, Leader?”

            “Two in one,” Kurusu answered simply. “We got some requests that the two of us could handle pretty easily, and…”

            “And?”

            He cast Goro a knowing side-eye with a hint of a smirk. “Someone has a new Persona.”

            “You-you wouldn’t be referring to me, would you?” Goro asked dumbly.

            “You weren’t aware?” Kurusu’s eyes were inscrutable behind his mask as he studied him.

            Goro had his own mask—red and ostentatious though it was—so he held his gaze like a challenge. Still, he loathed being a step behind. How had the other boy known something about him he had yet to figure out?

            “I made a discovery about my own Persona,” Kurusu continued. “I think it’s something new—at least, to me. It has to do with that first new Persona you got with Ann awhile back.”

            Goro’s brain latched onto the phrase “ _first_ new.” But he asked, “How would you know about my Persona without me being aware of said Persona?”

             He shrugged. “I’m sure someone like Igor would know, not that that’s much help.”

            “Yet another topic we must discuss.”

            “We’ll add it to the list. But first—” Kurusu zeroed in on a shadow and began to dart toward it, coattails streaming wildly behind him, “—let’s see your new Persona in action.”

            Putting Goro on the spot right in the middle of battle, huh. “So that’s how we’re going to do this,” he muttered, catching up to Kurusu now fighting a shadow that had transformed into a pixie.

            “When you were with Makoto, something must have happened that triggered a new awakening.”

            Unlike with Ann, this new Persona didn’t make its way out of its own accord. In fact, the more Goro reached, the dimmer the presence felt.

            “I can’t,” Goro finally said, doubling over for breath as Kurusu deflected the pixie’s barrage. The effort to call the Persona he just barely sensed sapped his strength.

            Kurusu defeated the weakling with a single shot of his gun while Goro turned inward to beat himself up. He had finally been starting to feel sure of himself—like he deserved to be part of the team. It hadn’t mattered any longer that memories and shame from the past continued to beat him down with each new day. He had finally found his footing, his place…but no longer.

            _Come_ on _!_ he mentally commanded the Persona, tone lowered to a dangerous hiss.

            No answer came. Just as Goro decided to give it all up—or _because_ he decided so—a response finally sounded from the depths of his mind.

            _Haven’t you realized that that’s not going to work?_

The voice was feminine and crystal clear. Stubborn and disappointed, too. It figured.

            _More and more you young people need things put into words. Whatever happened to the teaching of “Silence is a flower”?_

Suddenly, Goro was aware of his body going through the motions of taking out the shadows—and how infinitesimally slow it was compared to this exchange with the voice that had arisen within him. It was as if his body and mind were in two different dimensions running on different clocks.

            _Words do help things along,_ Goro replied, making sure to keep his voice light rather than sarcastic. When she didn’t respond, though he still felt her presence, he prompted, _So you’re more stubborn than the other Personas. You refuse to be commanded, is that it?_

            _I do not answer the same question twice._

That was a yes, then. Maybe they were getting somewhere.

            _Meaning you prefer to be the one giving orders._

A soft laugh of amusement. _Command or be commanded. That is, indeed, how your world turns, is it not, Goro Akechi?_

He marveled at the way these beings could fuse to his consciousness and comprehend the wiring of his psyche in an instant. He had expected himself to hate such intimate allowances, but out of some twisted need, Goro wouldn’t have it any other way.

            _What alternative is there?_ he inquired.

            _Think of the origin of our partnership, the bond that brought me to you._ There was a softening of her tone. It was more patient as she guided him through a new perspective.

            _The origin? My time with Makoto, apparently._ That’s what Kurusu had said, anyway, and it was the only plausible explanation he had. It’d been the same with Ann.

            _Our hearts want one thing even if our minds accept the opposite,_ she went on to explain. _We can submit to the hierarchies of society, while yearning quietly to crush them. Makoto has suffered enough degradation from those society places above her. As a part of her essence, I will have no master._

_Should I beg you, then, every time I’d like to call upon your abilities?_

Goro sensed a sigh as if the Persona resigned to think, _This boy never learns._ Very Makoto-like. Instead, she said, _See what happens if you ask nicely._

Her presence drifted back into the far reaches of his mind where he felt Loki, Robin Hood, and Ame-no-Uzume.

            _Ridiculous,_ he thought. Partnership, in the true sense of the word, couldn’t exist. As time passed, there would be the unspoken superior and inferior, or else conflict. Memories of his childhood in that institution pricked anew.

            In spite of that, Goro did as the Persona “suggested.” As he called upon her in his heart, her name came to his lips as if he had known it forever.

            “Will you lend me your power, Cybele?”

            Her nuclear powers cleared the area of shadows. They were the small fry of upper Mementos, so it took only one sweep to do the job. With a half-smile and nod of approval, Kurusu led them down to the deepest floor the Thieves had discovered.

            “What were the requests you received?” Goro asked.

            “Well…” Kurusu glanced away, an expression of one mulling over the proper way to explain something.

            _Hm…_ Goro gave a light laugh. “It’s not like you to hesitate.”

            “The Phantom Thieves have a system with our requests, and we have to treat each person we face the same.”

            Goro tilted his head in curiosity, wondering what exactly he was hinting at. “Of course,” he replied tentatively, tone rising a bit in the unasked question.

            Kurusu’s grey gaze was steady on him, searching for any hint of wavering. Being Joker upped his intensity, and Goro found himself intimidated by his stare again. “We’ve gone up against people who have tormented us, and our friends. That, or they do things to strangers that hit home for some of us.”

            He could only shrug. He’d been up against Shido, himself, without letting anger blind his fighting. Someday Kurusu would have to leave the past behind and trust Goro to follow procedure. Waiting for said trust was proving to be pretty frustrating, though.

            “Yes, you don’t kill no matter how much they deserve it,” he said, a bit of weariness leaking into his voice. “You prefer to reform them against their will.”

            Kurusu ran a palm over his face. “This was a bad idea. Let’s leave—”

            “No.” Goro gripped his shoulder lightly. “I’ll be serious. I’ll follow the code, alright?” If there was one thing he was good at, it was following orders.

            “I’m not having you do something you don’t believe in.”

            “Then I’ll find the targets without you. The Phantom Thieves come first and I _will_ prove my dedication to you one way or another.”

            Kurusu sighed. “If you’re going to back me into a wall like that, then I guess I have no choice. You’re not exactly earning points, though.”

            _And you wonder why he doesn’t trust you?_ came Cybele’s intruding voice.

            If he didn’t need her abilities for possible nuclear-weak enemies, he would have snapped at her to shut up—although she probably knew that, too.

            When the two of them stood before the gaping portal to the target’s location, Kurusu said, “All of us hate this guy more than most targets. He runs an orphanage with a high rate of abuse. We got the request from a guy who spent a few months there a couple years ago before getting himself transferred.”

            “Transferring’s no use.” Goro’s voice was flat. “They’re all the same, more or less.” This time he couldn’t face Kurusu and occupied himself with the hypnotizing swirl of the portal.

            “I’ve heard that’s the case, but luckily he made it to a good place.”

            Could that be true? Was there really hope for unwanted children like them? “Good for him, then.” Without waiting for Kurusu’s go-ahead, Goro entered the target’s area before realizing he’d done it.

            “I appreciate the initiative, but try waiting for me next time,” Kurusu said, appearing next to him a few seconds later.

            “Sorry,” Goro replied absentmindedly as he sized up the target: a chubby, middle-aged man with lazy posture and a fat mole on his chin.

            It was something trivial yet so distinctive like the mole that brought a surge of unpleasant memories. He was tired of this endless stream of them, like uninvited guests who refused to leave the way they came. Nothing about this man was sharp in Goro’s mind—yet. He had to sift through painful impressions, violent or humiliating or both. And then the man with the mole came into clear mental focus.

            A vivid, detailed memory pierced him. He was in a shabby, shared dormitory, cornered by two high school kids about five years older than him, strong despite being a bit peaky from malnourishment. And a little way’s back was the man with the mole.

            “Teach him a good lesson,” he said, throwing each of the older boys a pack of cigarettes.

            That lesson had been a beating so hard Goro could barely walk the next day.

            Back in Mementos, Goro kept his expression blank, neutral despite the mask he wore. The way he stood, however, must have put Kurusu on alert. He was aware of his own posture—tight and tense like a string pulled taut.

            “Something wrong?” he asked.

            “Not at all.”

            Kurusu looked like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. They approached the target, who blabbered right away.

            “What is this, a cosplay convention?” There it was, the raspy voice from Goro’s memory. He itched to call Loki.

            “Are you Daiki Fukuda?” Kurusu called in Joker’s rich timbre.

            The target sneered. “Yeah, and what’s it to you, kid? I’m already up to my ears in brats like you. Go find another place to take you in.”

            “What a coincidence,” Goro heard himself say. “Your institution is exactly what we came here to discuss.”

            Fukuda’s eyes narrowed into slits, but then he broke into a grating belly laugh. “This is the type of whining I gotta deal with from the younger kids. God, they give me migraine after migraine. By the time I break it outta them, I have another delivery of throwaway kids who haven’t learned basic respect.”

            Goro’s first instinct was to reach for his gun, an echo of his past life. He still wasn’t armed…

            Kurusu drew his own weapon. “We’re here to put a stop to your abuse. You’re going to pay for your crimes.”

            Another throaty laugh. “Just you try it, kid. I’ll teach you a good lesson.”

            It took all of Goro’s will not to order Loki to kill him on the spot. He burned with anger, literally felt feverish with it. It was agony forcing himself to stand still and wait.

            But why wait? Why stand still when he faced someone who deserved to die? What good was this trash to the world? Nevertheless, a promise was a promise; he wouldn’t kill Fukuda—yet.

            “Let’s take things into our own hands, Loki.”

            He felt that rush of rage-fueled power and a touch of madness Loki brought when summoned, that exhilaration as his stiff, regal uniform was swapped for something adhering to his form. _Yes_ , this was nice. Meanwhile, Loki created an ice storm that blinded Fukuda and forced him back. Goro then took advantage of Kurusu’s momentary fixation on Loki. In a smooth motion, he stole the gun from his holster and charged for the target.

            “Crow!”

            Kurusu did not sound happy, but Goro wasn’t about to turn back. Finger on the trigger and eyes focused unblinkingly on the man he loathed, Goro used his other hand to remove his own black helmet. He almost missed the flash of recognition in Fukuda’s eyes.

            “Crow, what are you doing?” Kurusu’s voice was low, dangerous.

            With a laugh that may have been half-mad, Goro remarked, “I’ve made you upset, haven’t I? I’ve never heard you quite like this.”

            He didn’t mean to sound antagonistic, yet he was completely at the mercy of his mood and Loki’s influence.

            “You gave me your word.”

            “Don’t worry.” Despite his response, Goro pointed the gun closer to Fukuda, who cowered. “I’ll only ask him a few questions and then leave him to you.” Without waiting for Kurusu’s reply, he snapped at the target, “Stop sniveling.”

            He stared at Fukuda. “Do you remember me?” he asked, keeping his voice level. He sensed more than saw Kurusu tense beside him.

            Fukuda trembled. “How could I not? You almost ruined me.”

            In a vicious move he couldn’t control, Goro pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple, eliciting a terrified squeak.

            “Yes, I almost succeeded in publicly soiling your name and getting you shut down for good.”

            The more he talked, the more he remembered. In snippets, he replayed the events: getting the word out, even tracking down officials that were supposed to deal with these types of institutions.

            Unfortunately, he was only eleven. And Japan’s bureaucracy was its own worst enemy.

            Fukuda rounded up the other twenty-five kids and, with punishment or bribes, he made sure that everyone turned against Goro. The jaded older kids at the top of the hierarchy enjoyed their prizes and dreamt up threats and torture that left no marks for those who would speak out.

            There was one child, however, that did not turn against him: a girl about Goro’s age. She had a gentle smile that hid a strong loyal streak. Her face flashed through his mind as the details trickled more and more into his brain.

            Now, Goro faced Fukuda. “I think you enjoyed that little puzzle of figuring out the one thing that could terrify each individual child into submission,” he mused, tone nonchalant. “For example, I was terrified of the dark, so it was all the more effective when you locked me into the dark storage room and denied me food for the day every so often.” But as horrible as that had been, that wasn’t what made him give up his campaign against Fukuda.

            For his own satisfaction, Goro cocked the pistol and shot just to the side of Fukuda’s head. It grazed his cheek, a thin scarlet line that trickled blood. Fukuda openly sobbed.

            “Should I kill you slowly and savor it?” Goro said, taking aim at non-vital limbs. Would he do it? Even he didn’t know at that moment.

            But there was one thing that could break through to him.

            “Akechi.”

            Kurusu’s tone was unreadable. His Persona loomed beside him, his presence speaking for itself. But Goro’s eyes did not leave Fukuda.

            “Do you want to know, Joker, what it was that finally broke my plans? After being worn down by everything else, this piece of shit said he’d kill the one and only friend I had ever made.”

            Both Fukuda and Kurusu were silent, waiting.

            “When he was already in hot water, how stupid was I to believe he’d do it?” Goro laughed mirthlessly. “But still, at his command, I knelt on the ground and apologized to all the people who got involved, ‘admitting’ that I’d lied about the whole thing. Fukuda gave me the script and I recited it.”

            Kurusu exhaled and, in a firm voice tinged with understanding and even pity, he said, “The Phantom Thieves don’t kill, Crow.”

            Fukuda, who had earlier been crying and cowering against the wall, zeroed-in on that instant of hesitation, which showed in Goro’s eyes and he way his gun hand twitched with the inner conflict. Before either Thief could block it, a dark force hit Goro square in the chest, knocking him back into a tumbling heap on the ground. A split second later, Fukuda slashed at Kurusu and morphed into his true form down in Mementos, a Pisaca.

            Kurusu deflected its attacks gracefully, not even flinching at the thing who had a sharp-teethed mouth running down its whole front. He helped up a very winded Goro and had his Persona cast a spell of healing. Goro felt the diarama revive him.

            “The corpse-eating corpse,” Kurusu commented. “Pretty fitting, isn’t it?”

            From that one remark, he knew Kurusu was willing to forgive him, or at least, understand him. Dazed but undeniably pleased, Goro grasped his outstretched hand gratefully and hauled himself up. He brushed off his clothes and used it as an excuse to look down and away. He wasn’t too hurt, though a bit winded from the impact. He’d taken worse hits.

            “Don’t dawdle too much.” Kurusu’s tone was teasing, but a warning just the same. As the shadow charged toward them, he didn’t wait for a response and dove right in.

            Goro followed suit, calling upon Loki to weaken the creature that bared its many teeth as it headed toward them. Its movements were awkward, yet eerily swift. It elicited the squeamishness one would feel encountering a cockroach—times a hundred. Goro grimaced, more than happy to let Loki do the fighting from afar even though it depleted his energy. Even if he’d had his sabers from long ago, he would have kept a healthy distance.

            Fukuda’s nails on a chalkboard voice made it all the worse. “I fed you, clothed you, and gave you shelter, and _this_ is what I get?!” he said. “I’m the reason you’re alive when your parents didn’t want you. They threw you away like garbage and now I’m the one who has to take out the trash!”

            Goro funneled his remaining rage through Loki. He shot pellets of ice into the creature and received satisfying yowls of pain in response.

            The problem was that it was starting to get used to their moves. The shadow wove around Kurusu’s attacks with its boneless structure and endured Loki’s attacks long enough to take swipes at Goro.

           “How’d it get so strong?” he yelled over to Kurusu.

           The shadow hissed. “You brats are all the same! I’m five steps ahead of you by now.” With a cackle so much harsher and raspier than his human laugh, the shadow sprayed spittle venom from its teeth and flew straight at a drained Kurusu, knocking away his weapon.

           “No--!” Goro cried out before something vital dawned on him.

 _I’m an idiot,_ he thought, pulling out Kurusu’s gun from his holster. He shot the shadow until the bullets ran out and started to morph back into its original form.

           “It appears there was one thing you didn’t predict,” Goro observed.

           The Pisaca’s shadowed particles became Fukuda once again. In that form and current state, anything more would kill him, as it would any human. He lay groaning on the ground, but when he peered up at the Phantom Thieves, Goro could tell by his eyes alone that he was a new man.

           Before he realized it, Goro was walking numbly away, leaving Kurusu to say the parting words, or whatever he did. All he knew was that he was a goner now. He had broken the one rule Kurusu had set for him, shattering the fragile trust he had finally allowed him.

            “Hey, uh, I know you might want to be alone right now, but it’s not good to wander off.” Kurusu had caught up with him inhumanely quick.

            Goro kept walking, eyes straight ahead, and feeling a sinking in his chest. Fresh from his rage-induced frenzy, it was as if he were a blazing fire extinguished abruptly by a torrent of cold water.

           “Wouldn’t it be best if we parted ways?” Or maybe they’d want him under lock and key until Shido was taken care of, in case Goro screwed things up for them.

           Kurusu didn’t seem to follow his thought trail. “Let’s not jump to extremes—”

           “But I clearly can’t be trusted. Having me on the team may complicate things.” The thought that occurred to him next drew a bitter laugh. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll run back to Shido for real.”

           Kurusu pinched the bridge of his nose, a stress gesture Goro had noticed him do before. “Slow down, Crow.”

           Goro, who had nothing more to say anyway, waited.

           “Look, you’re bad at impulse control, but so what? We’re _all_ like that—even Haru sometimes. I’ll keep my eye on you more closely, but it’s not like you betrayed us back there.”

           “I can’t believe you’re being this lenient.” He found himself laughing incredulously. “Especially with the way most of your friends see me.”

           Kurusu shrugged. “Just don’t do it again or I’ll sic my Persona on you. How about that?”

           Goro had a feeling he was serious. Better than getting the boot—and he planned never to let his rage get the best of him again. No matter who they were up against. “It-it won’t happen again. I aim to be someone you can rely on.”

           Kurusu gave him a little half-smile. Admittedly, it felt like a reward. “I’m counting on you Go-chan.”

           He walked ahead, leaving Goro glaring at his back. _Don’t tell me that stupid nickname stuck…_

           “You wanna be left behind, Crow?” Kurusu called from up ahead with a little wave. “Man, I miss the Mona Mobile…”

           Goro ran to catch up. Kurusu was so different from anything resembling a leader he had ever known. From what he remembered of Fukuda and Shido, people were tools to be exploited—the younger the better. He only had brief memories of Shido, but he remembered very clearly the threat of, _“Do you understand what it means to cross me?”_ It brought a brief chill over him.

          But that left another dilemma: was Kurusu really the trickster that would help bring about the world’s doom? In Joker, sometimes he saw it, but then with the way he treated Goro…Which was it?

          He shook his head as if to shake the thought away.

 _It’s probably just Igor’s mind games again._ He’s _probably the real enemy, in the end._

          But still, the doubts lingered…

*          *          *

         “Hey, Crow, could I have my gun back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another random note:
> 
> IIRC, Cybele was an unused Persona, and I thought she would be quite fitting for a connection to Makoto. I know he doesn't call upon her powers with Fukuda, but she'll get her time to shine more!  
> In Anatolian mythology, she is the mother of gods, and a "mediator between the wild and civilized." Quite Makoto-esque, isn't it? I'm too lazy to write more than that heheh


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